“I don’t suppose anything of the kind,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “It was chiefly the men who made the antique statues, wasn’t it? Very well, then, the poor creatures had no idea of style, and just reproduced the gowns they happened to admire themselves.” “True,” said the girl with the classic profile; “men always detest the ruling fashion of the hour. And yet, they seem to think we dress to please them,” she added, derisively. “I know it. And the women of ancient Greece were just like anybody else, I suppose,” replied the girl with the eyeglasses. “However, if they really wore white as frequently as they seem to, they must have had more money than I have to pay the laundress.” “Yes, or the principal street of Athens—I forget the name of it, must have been a good deal cleaner than State street,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “I don’t suppose, however, that the carving of statues could have made much dirt, and really the ancient Greeks seem to have done little else.” “At any rate their system of civic organization was—dear me, what was it? I had it all written down on the back of an invitation to dinner, and I must have lost it as I came along,” wailed the president. “Oh, dear, what shall I do?” “Never mind, you can tell us what you remember,” said the girl with the Roman nose, soothingly. “None of us know enough about it to detect the fact if you _are_ wrong.” “It isn’t that; I’ve got it all at home in the old school book I copied it from. But, as I say, it was on the back of an invitation to dinner, and I can’t remember whether it was for next Tuesday or Thursday!” “Goodness me, that is really serious,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin; “but perhaps Tom will remember.” “Tom remember the date of an invitation to dinner! How little you know about men. Why, he would tell me the wrong day, if he did remember, just to escape putting on his dress coat and going with me.” “Humph! from what Helen says, you may be thankful that he goes at all. Her husband does not. She says—” “Helen didn’t manage him properly at first, that’s all. When Tom first began to declare he wouldn’t go to dinners, I would just say, ‘Very well, dear, we’ll both remain at home, and tell our would-be hostess the true reason why we didn’t come. And now, I often reap the benefit of that Spartan policy. Of course, he is sometimes detained at the office by important business, or even called off by a telegram just as we are about to start. However, I always remember that he is only human after all, and seldom revenge myself in any other way than by telling him that Mr. Troolygood sat next me at table. Life will be a much more complicated affair for me if that dear fellow ever takes it into his head to marry.”