“True,” said the girl with the classic profile, “sometimes, I fear that Helen’s husband will develop such proclivities. Of course it is only a harmless eccentricity which makes him sew on his own buttons—I can overlook that. But the other day he was getting ready to go down town while she was out on her bicycle. Just because she was wearing one of his shirts and a collar and tie of his, he dressed up in that lovely lace collarette of hers, and was actually going out with it on! What would people have said of a man who appeared in such feminine attire!” “Goodness me, I hope he is not losing his mind,” said the president. “However, if he is, Helen is always ready to supply him with a piece of hers. By the way, girls, what queer questions men do ask! Several of Tom’s friends dined with us last evening, and they actually wanted to know why a stout woman always selects a tiny dog for a pet, while a wisp of a woman will be tugging at the chain of an enormous mastiff. I simply told them that they must not be so curious, for, though I would not confess it to _them_, I really could not answer the question.” “And you were quite right,” said the blue-eyed girl, indignantly; “by and by, they will actually expect us to give a reason for everything we do! Which is palpably absurd, since we so often do things without any reason at all!” “Well, luckily, we are not responsible for anybody,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Oh! I just wouldn’t be a man for anything in the world.” “Would anybody, if he could help it?” queried the brown-eyed blonde. “Of course, they all pretend to like it, but one can easily see the hollowness of the pretense. Why, they would not be half so anxious to criticise our actions if they didn’t feel that we have the best of things. Of course, I would not be a man for anything—” “Nor I,” said the president, “and have to give up my comfortable seat in a street car every time a woman entered.” “But of course it is only right for them to give up their seats to us,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Certainly, it’s right. Only I shouldn’t like to have to do it myself.” “Of course not. Or to have to pay for pretty things for somebody else to wear. Or to have to drop a nice book, and go out in the rain to escort home a girl who had been calling on some one else,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “Yes. Or to have to buy candy for somebody else to eat,” said the girl with the classic profile. “M’hm. Or to have the nearest woman manage one, without one being aware of the fact,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “I know! Or to have to fall in love with a girl, and marry her, just because she had made up her mind that one should,” said the blue-eyed girl. “Yes. Well, really the poor things have a great deal to endure, though many of their sufferings are mercifully hidden from them,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “But, after all, we are very nice to them, you know.”