"Not a bit better shaped than yours, my dear. Let us have a select little mutual admiration society."
"But mine are large," returned Mildred, sitting down and thrusting forth her slippers for inspection.
"So are you," suggested Clover.
"But isn't it strange that people never consider that, in speaking of a woman's foot? She must have small feet irrespective of her size, or else they had better never be seen or mentioned. In old novels a man sometimes keeps his beloved's slipper under a glass case. What a formidable piece of furniture my lover will have when he gets a glass case for mine."
"Foolish child! You are proportioned just right."
"Perhaps; but what I say is that the consensus of opinion decides that I ought not to be. Shoe men fall in with that idea. Dainty shoes are small shoes. I tell you fame and wealth awaits the shoe-dealer who becomes inspired with the idea that large women want pretty shoes too."
"You seem to have made Mr. Page have a delightful evening," remarked Clover.
"Yes; he didn't ask for one of my slippers, though. Fancy sterling cousin Page ordering a glass case!"
Clover smiled in answer to Mildred's laugh.
"What did you talk about?"