“Would gladly have accepted the invitation—and been suddenly taken ill on the appointed day, of course. Well, when the papers and selections were being read, I studied my programme to keep my eyes from those appalling coiffures, and when I saw the word ‘Music’ on it, I felt like a person who has found an oasis in a desert!” “And had you?” queried the president, who had left the platform and joined the group about the narrator. “No. They played something from Wagner!” “And you?” said the girl with the classic profile. “Oh, I was in a comatose condition by that time. Nothing mattered. After the interminable programme they served refreshments.” “You felt better then?” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “No, I didn’t. They had tea and wafers! Tea and wafers after Ibsen, Browning and Wagner! And then Clarissa vanished and I couldn’t get away. The people present were all very distinguished; one of the members had written an epic poem which would have appeared in Harper’s if it had not been lost in the mails; one of them had invented a rational dress for men and another had once been asked to deliver a lecture upon ‘Thought Transference’ before a mothers’ meeting at an orphan asylum!” “My goodness, no wonder you wanted to go home!” cried the brown-eyed blonde. “I did—badly. By and by, while I was wandering about the rooms in search of Clarissa, I found a woman who looked as unhappy as I felt. I was afraid to speak to her, lest she be somebody very remarkable, but she asked me, timidly, if I was the lady who had actually worn a rainy day dress, in public. I assured her that I was not, and after that we got on famously.” “But who was she?” the president asked. “I don’t know her name, but after we had discussed Ibsen and Browning a little, I asked what she had done. She replied, modestly: ‘Oh, I am the person who always read the Woman’s page in the daily papers!’ After that, we talked just like ordinary people, and I didn’t see Clarissa when she came to look for me!” “My goodness, girls, we really ought not to laugh so,” said the girl with the Roman nose, “because this club is devoted to the advancement of woman, and—” “That is entirely different,” said the president. “Did Ibsen, Browning or Wagner ever do anything for the advancement of woman, I’d like to know?” “Of course not,” said the blue-eyed girl, promptly. “How very absurd!” “Besides, our club is laid out on entirely new lines,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Yes, isn’t it?” returned the president; “Oh, girls, I quite forgot to tell you that we shall have to pay rent for this room if we hold our meetings here, and we haven’t made any provision for paying it.” “But what is the use of making provision, when it isn’t due yet?” asked the blue-eyed girl. “Why—er, that is very true,” said the president; “I only wish I was as good a business woman as you!”