“And no wonder,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “As if a woman couldn’t always stand more than a man, anyhow! For instance, I wonder how many of them could go out in thin shoes, and without overshoes, as we do. And yet you never hear a girl say that she has caught cold in that way.” “Never,” said the blue-eyed girl; “we have too much fortitude. My cousin Edith’s husband used to be always complaining of his health, until this last winter, I wondered what had caused his miraculous recovery, until she told me a few days ago. She was away from home, and received a telegram, saying that she must come at once if she wanted to see him alive. The message was delayed, being improperly addressed, and when she reached home, expecting to find him dead, he met her at the door. It seems that he had called in a new doctor, who was the cause of his miraculous recovery. He said he would never have another physician to prescribe for him as long as he lived.” “Completely cured, eh?” said the president. “Not that time. Next time he was ill, and the new doctor appeared, he turned out to be an old admirer of Edith’s. Her husband is frightfully jealous, and Edith’s potential second husband is a very real person to him. Edith, as nurse, always went out into the hall to talk with the doctor after his call. She says she is sure that she did not remain away so _very_ long; but when she came back, after the first visit, her husband sulked; after the second, he raved; and after the third, he got up, declaring he’d live, if only to spite them both. And now, the doctor points to him as an example of his remarkable healing powers,” she added. “Speaking of old sweethearts,” said the president, “what do you think happened to me the other day? I was calling on Mrs. Vansmith and her guest, as she had requested. Both of them happened to be out, and, to my annoyance, I found I had no cards with me. At last I found one of Tom’s in my card-case, and I left that, knowing that Mrs. Vansmith would understand.” “Well, and didn’t she?” asked the girl with the Roman nose. “Perhaps. But the visitors didn’t. It turned out that she used to be engaged to Tom; while I was in the kindergarten, I suppose. It seems that his card was handed to her; and you should have seen the unbelieving smile with which she listened to my explanation of the matter!” “You poor, dear,” said the blue-eyed girl, “you must have been as angry as if somebody had trodden on your gown. A rather unpleasant thing happened to Florence the other day, too; Molly was calling on her, and a note was handed in. She thought it was from Teddy Crœsus, and pretending that she had ink on her fingers, asked Molly to open it for her, which she did.” “How stupid of Molly; she might have known that it was some trick of Florence’s,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Was it a proposal from Teddy?”