“Why does she let him catch her at it?” queried the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Oh, girls, you know that awful, dark green necktie that Dick has been wearing! Well, I endured it until I felt as if I should scream if I saw him wear it again, so I begged it from him; told him that I wanted it as a souvenir to hang beside his college cap and his football colors. As soon as he sent it to me I threw it into the fire.” “And he came in before it was reduced to ashes?” asked the president, in sympathetic tones. “No. He appeared with another just like it, the very next day—said he didn’t like it himself, but since I had admired it and he wanted to please me, he had matched it before he sent it to me!” “And that was your only reward for trying to save his feelings,” sighed the blue-eyed girl. “Really, Emily, I often think you are too good for this world.” “At any rate, I shall soon be out of it if so many sorrows are heaped upon my head. By the way, girls, I’ve been learning to ride my bicycle, and talking of heroism, I—” “How many times have you fallen?” exclaimed the girl with the classic profile. “I heard the other day of a girl who learned to ride in a single lesson, without falling once, and—” “Humph. I’ve often heard of that girl myself—but I’ve never seen her. I’ve fallen nineteen times; that is, not counting the time mamma called after me to be careful, and the time that Dick said I had ridden almost a half block since he let go of my belt—because you know, it was not my fault that I fell upon either of those occasions!” “Of course not,” said the president, “but, girls, we really must not talk about bicycling, because if we do we shall drift away from our discussion, and I can’t bear to depart, even momentarily, from the high standard of the club. We were speaking of Elizabeth a moment ago; has any one seen her lately?” “Not I,” said the blue-eyed girl. “I make a point of avoiding the girl who is about to be married, the mother of the cleverest baby in the world, and the woman who is designing her own house. Really, you know, I don’t mind letting someone else do all the talking, but I _do_ like a change of topic once in a while.” “I know I was just as sensible as any one could be while Tom and I were engaged,” said the president, “and yet, people did act so oddly. Why, they would go right away if I began to talk of him at all; they didn’t even stay long enough to see how sensible I was.” “By the way, I believe that Jane and Mr. Sooter are engaged,” said the girl with the classic profile; “Jane denies it but—” “Then I think you are mistaken,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “I know Jane, and she seldom understates a case. Why do you think they are engaged?” “He has given up sending her flowers and candy, and begun presenting bric-a-brac instead.” “Pshaw, that is nothing; he may once have been engaged to a girl who was a china maniac, and these may be the presents she returned.”