“I am afraid not, dear. I was just telling Emily that there is so much trouble in the world that I sometimes feel actually guilty when I think of my own absolutely cloudless existence! By the way, have you heard that Clarence Lighthed has just bought that pretty place in Astor Street, which was for sale? He must think that my knowledge of architecture is valuable, for he told his agent to make an offer for it just because I admired it so much!” “Poor Effie Bittersweet,” said the president. “I—ah, I don’t know what has made me think of _her_ just at this time, but Madame told me yesterday that she had been obliged to alter all her gowns for her. They are a full half-inch too loose, she says!” “Really? Is Effie ill?” cried the blue-eyed girl, in surprise. “How odd that you never thought to mention it, Frances! I should have gone to see her immediately, had I known it. Pray, tell her so when you see her next.” “If you are so anxious to see her, why not go with me, and tell her so, yourself,” said the brown-eyed blonde, dryly. “In this gown? and when all of hers are at the dressmaker’s! I couldn’t think of doing such a mean thing. I only thought that as you are always at her house, you could take a message for me; that is all.” “Tom says Clarence asked him the other day, if he didn’t consider that the best thing a fellow could do was to marry some nice girl, and settle down,” said the president, suddenly. “Yes? And what did Tom say?” asked the girl with the dimple in her chin. “He must have said ‘yes,’ dear; otherwise he wouldn’t have dared to mention the occurrence to me at all.” “What _I_ am wondering,” said the blue-eyed girl, innocently, “is: what on earth made Clarence ask him such a question?” “Sheer curiosity, dear,” said the brown-eyed blonde, sweetly; “what other reason could he possibly have had? By the way, girls, have you noticed that Marie is showing great strength of character lately? She has broken with Mr. Mushley, and actually refused to send back any of his presents. She says the sight of them could not fail to remind him of his loss, and she would rather have people speak unkindly of her than cause him unnecessary pain!” “How sweet of her,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “I only hope he will appreciate her consideration. Girls, what do you think Elizabeth told me the other day? Why, that all the photographs of girls my brother saw when he called on Fred belonged to a man with whom he used to room, and he was only keeping them until he happened to run across him again.” “And she believed him?” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, scornfully. “How silly some girls are, to be sure! They believe anything a man tells them. To be sure, Dick was telling me the truth when he said that he only wrote all those sonnets to Clara as a joke; but that was very different.”