“Oh, he wouldn’t have said it before you unless he expected you to repeat it, dear. You must tell me what it is, or I shall fancy it was not really unpleasant, and, really I’ve had so many compliments of late that it will be quite a change. I am actually afraid that Cla—a friend who thinks too well of me—will make me vain, and that—” “Impossible, dear. By the way, I hear that Clarence Lighthed comes to see you occasionally now, and—” “Not oftener than once in twenty-four hours, dear.” “Yes. And really he has been so devoted to so many girls that—” “It is a wonder that he has never thought of _you_! Why so it is, now that I think of it. But never mind, there may be a chance for you yet. Pardon me, you were about to repeat something you had heard about me, and I’m afraid I interrupted you.” “Was I? Dear me, I have quite forgotten what it was; nothing very important, I’m sure.” “Very true. By the way, I heard something about _you_ the other day, too. It was extremely complimentary—so much so indeed, that you will think I am trying to flatter you, if I repeat it.” “Indeed? Oh, I remember now what I was about to tell you. It was—so you really heard something nice about poor little me?” “Yes, I really did. I’ll tell you after you have finished your story. I really must not interrupt you again.” “Yes, Ja—I mean the man I know—said the other day that he thought you—now you mustn’t mind this, at all, Dorothy; I told him at once that nobody else had ever said such a thing of you.” “How kind of you to champion me, dear; I really did not expect it.” “Oh, yes; I often do it. He said—I wouldn’t repeat it to you, but the absurdity of the charge takes all the sting out of it. He said, ‘I consider Dorothy Darling the most heartless flirt I ever knew!’ Isn’t it too funny!” and she burst into a peal of laughter. The blue-eyed girl paused to pat a little dog before she replied: “How well you do tell a story, Frances, dear. Look at that poor, old blind man over yonder; let us cross over and give him some pennies,” and she was almost dancing as she crossed the street. “Perhaps he is an impostor, after all,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “By the way, you said somebody paid me a nice compliment the other day. Do tell me what it was, and if I ever get the chance—be it twenty years from now—I’ll do the same for you.” “Oh, yes, indeed. Old Miss Lucy Brownsmith said to me, only the other day, ‘Really, Frances is quite a nice-looking girl now that she has given up lacing so tightly.’ I knew you would be so pleased. Well, here we are at the Club; I am afraid that I must have walked too fast for you, dear; you look quite flushed.” “Oh, Emily, dear,” she whispered, as she embraced her friend in the cloak room, “Jack is wild with jealousy! He told Frances the other day that I was the most heartless flirt he ever knew!” “Then, he is ready to go half-way toward making up! Oh, I am so glad that I—”