“Poor Florence! No wonder she says now she thinks a man looks better in cycling garb than anything else. The sight of a dress coat must be enough to make her ill.”
“I should think so,” said the president. “By the way, speaking of theosophy, I wonder why its stout and elderly devotees wear such flowing white robes? The younger ones seem content with short hair and general dowdiness.”
“Good gracious, you will be wondering next why politicians always wear diamonds or why dressmakers invariably appear in old-fashioned gowns,” said the girl with the Roman nose; “and I must say, frankly, that I can’t answer either of those questions. By the way, Evelyn, I suppose I am to congratulate you. I hear that Tom has just inherited ten thousand dollars.”
“I don’t know whether you may congratulate me, or not,” said the president. “Sometimes, I—”
“Oh! Then, there is no truth in the report?”
“Yes, it is true enough, but I don’t know whether I am to be congratulated or not. You see, I was getting along very well as we were, and now I see that I need a lot of things I never thought of before—more than the extra income could possibly cover—and I shall be absolutely wretched unless I can have them.”
“But you will have some of them, anyhow, won’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Tom talks now of putting all the money into his business. In that case he will be obliged to work harder, because he will have more at stake; he says, also, that I shall have to be more economical than ever because every cent will be needed to extend his operations. On the whole,” she added, thoughtfully, “I am rather sorry his aunt is dead. It was ever so much nicer when she was living, and I could spend the expected legacy royally, in imagination, at least.”
“You poor dear; to think of having cause to regret the death of a wealthy relative,” said the blue-eyed girl, “but—er—couldn’t Tom put you on the pay-roll as a clerk, or something?”
“I did suggest that; but he said he’d rather pay me a salary to stay out of the office. I haven’t spoken to him since.”