“All of them. You know those horrid quinine tablets Evelyn is always wanting people to try—well, I shall take one of them publicly. You don’t suppose that any one will suspect me of doing it unnecessarily, do you?” The girl with the dimple in her chin shuddered. “Impossible,” she said. The blue-eyed girl suddenly stopped curling her hair, and, facing her friend, remarked: “I can tell you one thing though—Jack Bittersweet shall pay dearly for this!” * * * * * The president of the Teacup club rapped for order with the handle of her umbrella. “I am glad to see you all here to-day, in spite of the weather,” she remarked. “We have a very interesting topic for discussion. It is, ‘Woman in Her Character of Heroine.’” “Indeed, it is interesting,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “I only wish you had thought to mention it to me and I should have prepared a paper on it. No, I couldn’t have done it, either, for my aunt from New Jersey was in town, and I had to take her sight-seeing. Oh, dear, aren’t people who live in the country painfully active? And what ideas they have! They seem to think Lincoln Park is in the back yard and the Statue of Columbus across the street.” “I know a girl who has had a much worse time than that,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “She had to take her future mother-in-law to see the sights. The old lady had read up in preparation for her visit, and knew more about the city than Marie herself. Now, while the poor girl is being massaged with arnica and things to get over the effects of her exertion, the old lady is busy telling her son that such an ignorant girl can never make a good wife!” “Speaking of the bravery of women,” said the girl with the classic profile, “I know a girl who early one morning heard a noise in a large closet next her room, in which she kept her furs and cloth gowns. She slipped out of bed and into the hall, and turned the key, which was fortunately on the outside, and there she had the burglar safe in that stifling atmosphere. Then she fainted.” “And no wonder,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “I should have fainted first.” “It took them three-quarters of an hour to restore her and find out what was the matter, then they sent for the police, and what do you think they found?” “That the burglar was dead,” breathed the girl with the Roman nose. “No. It wasn’t a burglar at all; it was her own father, who had risen early and gone into the closet to look for a file of papers which had been kept in the attic for twenty years. Oh, he said perfectly awful things when he got breath enough to speak! Unluckily, too, it happened just at the time when she needed a lot of new things. She said that nobody appreciated her bravery except a man who was paying her attention at the time, and he didn’t dare say a word before her father for fear of losing his good-will.”