“That is not the reason,” said the girl with the eyeglasses, “she is engaged to a man who knows how to cook, so there is no use for her to waste any more time over it. She is studying political economy now.”
“And a very good thing, too,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, “for the way money is wasted on elections, is really shocking!”
“Hear! hear!” cried the girl with the Roman nose. “Of course I don’t want to have men as members of this club, but I can’t help wishing sometimes that a few of them might hear Emily and Evelyn when they are attacking political abuses and monopolies.”
“For my part, I don’t see why they haven’t thrust the privilege of suffrage upon us long ago,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Then they would have somebody to blame, when civic and national affairs go wrong!”
“Pshaw,” said the president, “that isn’t necessary at all. They can come home and scold because dinner is late, or the hall gas is unlit, and so relieve their feelings just the same.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to vote,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “It is ever so much nicer to do as the men do with our housekeeping—just criticise that which we can never display our ignorance by attempting to do ourselves.”
“That is only your sweet modesty, dear,” said the girl with the classic profile. “What do you think Mr. Bonds said the other day! Ah, I was so indignant! He said it was a mistake to say that women could not throw stones.”
“I don’t see why you were indignant at that,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “It seems to me—”
“It wasn’t that. It was what came afterward. He said he knew it was a libel for they could—at each other! And every man in the room laughed as if he had said something clever!”
“I declare,” said the brown-eyed blonde, “it is enough to make a man-hater of me. If only people would not say that it was because of some particular man who failed to admire me—”