“I am glad _somebody_ has had a stroke of luck,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “As for me, I’ve just had an object-lesson in the selfishness of this world, which is enough to make a misanthrope of me for life.” “Mercy, has your grandmother decided to buy a wheel for herself instead of for you?” asked the blue-eyed girl. “No. But you see it scratches the enamel to learn on a wheel—not to mention the other accidents which may befall it. Now, Nell’s bicycle is old, and I sent to borrow it to ride while I was taking my lessons. She actually refused it, unless I would lend her my new one while I had hers. Did you ever hear of such selfishness in your life?” “Never,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “By the way, I suppose Jack Bittersweet will teach you to ride?” “Why, yes; but how did you guess it?” There was a note of triumph in her voice. “Oh, that was easy enough. He is always teaching somebody, you know. I told him the other day that I was afraid people would soon think him a professional.” “B—but he told me that he only teaches people whom he—likes,” said the brown-eyed blonde, faintly. “Why, of course, dear. But, Jack hasn’t a bit of discretion; he likes everything that wears petticoats, I verily believe.” “Oh—I— By the way, Evelyn, dear, what is to-day’s topic? You had started the discussion when I came, and I didn’t like to interrupt you to ask.” “It is ‘Woman in Legislation,’” said the president, after a peep at her note-book, “By the way, Frances, I know the cheapest place in town for arnica, if you want—” “Mine doesn’t cost anything, dear. Papa always has a bill at the drug store. I know the clerk, and he has promised if I use a very large quantity to put it down as toilet soap and postage stamps. Papa has never ridden you know, and he might not understand.” “Very true,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “What a comfort bicycling is, anyhow. For instance, if you meet a strange man, and the conversation lags—” “Get it on bicycles, and it runs smoothly enough,” said the president. “I wish _I_ could do the same,” wailed the brown-eyed blonde. “Well it is lucky for me that the dancing season is over, for my arms are a perfect sight.” “Oh, if it is only your arms!” said the girl with the Roman nose, cheerfully. “_I_ always fell on my face when I was learning. The only comforting thing about that was, that I soon became unrecognizable, and could fall right up and down my own street without a soul knowing who I was. It was very convenient, too, for they hadn’t far to take me when I had a really bad accident.” “How long did you have to wait to sit for your photograph?” asked the blue-eyed girl. “Six weeks, dear—and then it had to be a profile.” “Elizabeth had rather a hard time of it, too,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin; “she would learn in her lovely new suit, and by the time she could ride, she hadn’t enough of it left to make a bathing costume.”