“It would do no good in the end,” finished the blue-eyed girl. “Still, I sometimes fancy, after all, that it might be well to be as nice to papa and the boys as I am to the men I dance with!”
“My goodness,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, “we must be getting into metaphysics now! I’m not quite sure as to what metaphysics may be, so I always conclude that everything I don’t understand must—”
“Be metaphysics? Do you? For my part, I always confuse metaphysics with hydraulics, though there is some difference between them I know,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “Let us ask Evelyn to explain them right now. She—”
“Some other time, dear;” said the president, hastily. “You know we are discussing Woman in Politics to-day and—”
“It would be unparliamentary to discuss anything else,” said the girl with the Roman nose.
The president looked at her gratefully.
“What a logical mind you have, dear,” she said. “I only wish you could be with me sometimes when Tom comes home late from his club. I know that there are all sorts of flaws in the stories he tells me, but somehow I never find them until after he has given me money and I’ve kissed him and made up.”
“What a pity,” sighed the girl with the Roman nose, “for if you found out the real flimsiness of his stories sooner, you could get more money.”
“Oh, dear, so I could,” wailed the president, “it is an awful thing to have a husband and not a logical mind!”
“So it is,” said the girl with the Roman nose, “but, Evelyn, don’t tell anybody your opinion of me, for if you do, it may end in my having a logical mind and no husband, which is worse!”