“Pshaw, I wouldn’t mind that a bit,” said the girl with the Roman nose, “there’s nothing like a reputation for amiability—you can be as ill-natured as you please, once it is gained.” “Humph, you seem to forget that I have a husband to remind me of things,” said the president. “Well, there is one person I don’t envy, and that is Barbara.” “Humph, I don’t think she is so beautiful,” said the girl with the Roman nose; “for my part, I think her nose might be called a snub.” “Neither do I,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin; “the lower part of her face is actually coarse.” “Say what you please,” said the president, “she has the reputation of being a beauty, and if she doesn’t look as well as usual she just has to stay at home. She has a cold now, and her complexion is awful.” “Is it?” said the girl with the Roman nose, “I must certainly stop in to see her to-day. I never saw her when she had a really bad cold.” “And so shall I,” said the brown-eyed blonde, “she really ought not to be neglected when she is ill.” “I shall go, too,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “And by the way, Dick has been teasing for an introduction to her for ever so long. This will be the very time to take him to call on her—when she is certain to be at home, I mean.” “I understand,” said the president; “it is very thoughtful of you to want to cheer up the poor thing. Girls, shouldn’t you love to see her face when she finds that Emily has brought a strange man to call when her complexion is in such a condition.” “Oh, I don’t suppose that she will mind Dick,” said the brown-eyed blonde; “nobody else does, you know.” “Very true,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, sweetly. “Of course he has eyes for nobody else when I am in the room; but I did not expect you, Frances, to acknowledge as much.” “Why, Dorothy,” cried the president, “here you are, at last! It isn’t like you to keep anybody waiting—that is, of course, except a man; they are accustomed to it, and—” “Why, does Dorothy ever keep a man waiting?” said the brown-eyed blonde, elevating her eyebrows. “I had understood that she usually met them in the front hall when—” “Yes, dear, but then I am always dressed to see masculine callers. I have so many, you know. Why, Evelyn, I would not have been late for the world, but my new gown—” “I’m sure I don’t blame you for it, dear. I couldn’t have helped making a dramatic entry in such a poem myself.” “But it wasn’t that which made me late, dear. I fancied there was a tiny wrinkle in the back of the waist. After examining it in every mirror in the house, I discovered that it was only the way I twisted my shoulders to look at it, which made the wrinkle.”