“Speaking of opportunities,” said the girl with the eyeglasses, “have you heard of Marie’s last mishap? No? I thought not. You know that delightful young physician who cares nothing for society, and declines all non-professional invitations, and never calls on a woman under seventy. Well, Marie has developed neuralgia, grip, and nervous prostration in swift succession, and he has been called in to attend her. You see, it is this way: it gives her an opportunity to see him in bewitching tea-gowns, and she studies new poses on the sofa when she is not taking powders.” “Oh! And when are they to be married?” asked the president. “Never, dear. He says he had long loved her silently, and was trying to summon up enough courage to tell her so. Now, however, he sees that she is too delicate to make a good wife for a hardworking professional man!” “Humph! No wonder Marie’s little brother told mine he wants to go away to boarding-school,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “Well, I always did hate deceit. I never—” “By the way,” said the president, “I thought you had such a bad headache that you could not go out to-day.” “That was when mamma wanted me to accompany her to a meeting at the orphan asylum, dear. I felt ever so much better after she was gone.” “I am so glad you care so much for the club,” said the president. “I gave up a luncheon at my mother-in-law’s, in order to come, myself. I wanted awfully to go—all the other guests were lovely old ladies—perfect walking encyclopædias on the subject of servants, and the proper time to hunt moths or cut first teeth.” “Oh, I forgot to tell you, dear,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Tom’s mother sent you a message by me that she had put the luncheon off until Friday because you were so disappointed at your inability to be present.” “Well, if she expects me to waste a whole morning on those old frumps, she is very much mistaken, that is all. And you are no true friend of mine, or you would have told her I had an engagement for that day, too!” “Humph! You seem to forget that I am afraid of her, too. She was my old Sunday-school teacher, and she would as lief be disagreeable to me as to you. Besides, it is not as if Tom had no unmarried brothers. One has to consider her feelings, you know, and—” “Very true, dear. You always were charitable, Emily—I can just as well go to bed with a cold on Friday. Well, I fear we must adjourn now. What a profitable meeting we have had! I only wish Dorothy could have heard some of the arguments that—” “Yes, indeed, Dorothy needs all of the good sense she can possibly obtain in any form,” murmured the brown-eyed blonde. “Not now that she is about to be married, dear,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “However, I am sure that nothing save death or a boil on her chin will ever keep her away from another meeting. She says she considers the founding of this club her life work.”