“Doesn’t it? and yet, such is the selfishness of man, that he expects one to be as much interested,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Oh, girls,” cried the girl with the dimple in her chin, “you know that old Mrs. Myllons is always making presents to Barbara and me! Well, one day in the beginning of the season she called for me to go shopping with her. Of course, I went. Now, it was not long after Barbara had encouraged her to give me that awful picture of Burns, and I was as eager for her to select a present for Barbara as for me. I knew I could direct her choice in either case. To my joy, she stopped to look at silks, and her choice fell upon a hideous piece of green which would demolish Barbara’s complexion completely—and I really think that girl would sooner part with her life than her complexion. I managed to convey to Mrs. Myllons my personal preference for a lovely pink which cost a dollar less a yard, while encouraging her to buy the green. You see she was planning her reception, and Barbara and I were to assist her on that occasion.” “So she took it, did she?” said the president. “I only hope I may see Barbara in the green!” “You never will,” wailed the girl with the dimple in her chin—“it was for me! Mrs. Myllons sent it with a lovely note complimenting me on my unselfishness in wishing Barbara to have the handsomer piece. I dare not refuse to wear it at the reception; and my own father actually says it serves me right for trying to play a joke on Barbara!” “You must not expect sympathy from your father, dear,” said the girl with the Roman nose; “he will expect you to wear that gown all season, to save buying another. And nothing will ever happen to it, either,” she added. “It is only the gown that is dearer to you than life itself which has a fatal attraction for cups of coffee or fowls carved by inexperienced hosts!” “Did I ever tell you of the awful thing which happened to me last winter?” said the girl with the classic profile. “I believe not, though; we hadn’t started our club then. Well, I just had to have a new gown, and I was so afraid that my father wouldn’t give it to me that I got it without saying a word to him. I knew that even if there was a cyclone over the bill I’d have the gown anyhow. That being the case, I got a much handsomer one than I would have chosen under other circumstances.” “Quite right,” said the president; “if there must be an unpleasant scene, better have it over something which will fully repay one.” “So I thought. Well, the gown only came home the evening of my sister’s dance; and I really wanted to enjoy that, so I decided not to give papa the bill until the next day, though the dressmaker was in a great hurry for her money.” “They always are,” sighed the president.