“Indeed; and where are the violets?” asked the girl with the dimple in her chin; “you don’t seem to be wearing them!”
“Why, er—no. Ja—I mean Mr. Bittersweet—threw them at the dog. You will find them right by the stairway, Dorothy, dear; but I’m afraid they are not in very good condition. What is to-day’s topic, Evelyn?”
“‘The Use and Abuse of Political Power,’” said the president, in a faint voice. “Will somebody open the window, please; I need air!”
“Oh, Evelyn,” said the girl with the Roman nose, after the president had announced that she felt better, “I do hope you are not sitting up at night studying, and that sort of thing.”
“Why, er—no, I believe not. The fact is I’ve been going to a good many dances of late on Tom’s account.”
“But Tom doesn’t go, does he?”
“No. B—but everybody knows how fond of dancing I am; and if I didn’t go they would say he kept me at home. I don’t want Tom to pose as a tyrant, you know!”
“Of course not. You—”
“Yes. The only thing which makes me feel uncomfortable is the angelic way in which he bears my absence. It isn’t like Tom, and—”
“Clarence—my cousin you know—was saying only the other day, that he thought you an angel to allow Tom and his friends to smoke in the drawing-room, just because you happened to be out,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “I wonder if that—”