“It’s the principle of the thing, my dear. What hurts me, is the fact that my husband respects my wishes so little, when I only go to dances to keep people from thinking ill of him, too! Well, one thing sure, I’ll have all new curtains and carpets—since mine are ruined with smoke—if he keeps on talking about hard times until he is black in the face!” “I wonder why men are always talking about hard times,” said the girl with the classic profile; “women never say anything about them.” “Unless they are driven to it,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “My sister’s husband wanted to have his mother come for a nice, long visit, but she told him that she hardly thought they could afford it in such hard times. You see he had just made that excuse for not doing up the house.” “With the result?” queried the girl with the eyeglasses. “That he decided to have the house done up at once! And, after all, the old lady only stayed about a week. Helen says she can’t imagine why she went, unless, she was offended at her suggestion that she might like to take a course at the cooking-school while she was here.” “Well, I don’t blame Helen, at all,” said the blue-eyed girl. “No man has a right to be dyspeptic before he is married, and her husband was. Everybody ought to have a fair chance, and Helen’s cooking might not have given it to him for years.” “At any rate, he can’t blame _her_ for his dyspepsia—and that is something,” said the president. “Girls, does any one know why Josephine has given up her lessons at the cooking school?” “I suppose she has made one really good loaf of bread, and doesn’t want to tempt fate again,” said the blue-eyed girl. “That is not the reason,” said the girl with the eyeglasses, “she is engaged to a man who knows how to cook, so there is no use for her to waste any more time over it. She is studying political economy now.” “And a very good thing, too,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, “for the way money is wasted on elections, is really shocking!” “Hear! hear!” cried the girl with the Roman nose. “Of course I don’t want to have men as members of this club, but I can’t help wishing sometimes that a few of them might hear Emily and Evelyn when they are attacking political abuses and monopolies.” “For my part, I don’t see why they haven’t thrust the privilege of suffrage upon us long ago,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Then they would have somebody to blame, when civic and national affairs go wrong!” “Pshaw,” said the president, “that isn’t necessary at all. They can come home and scold because dinner is late, or the hall gas is unlit, and so relieve their feelings just the same.” “I’m sure I don’t want to vote,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “It is ever so much nicer to do as the men do with our housekeeping—just criticise that which we can never display our ignorance by attempting to do ourselves.”