“But I heard that the quarrel was over Jack’s membership in a new club.”
“That might have been, dear, but people that are engaged don’t always quarrel over the real bone of contention. Of course, I only hope I really had nothing to do with it; I have so many such things on my conscience already that I don’t want any more,” and she sighed softly.
“Yes, but tell me about the quarrel, do.”
“Well—er—the fact is that Jack hasn’t said a word to me about it, which makes me quite sure that I am the cause of it, unwilling as I am to think it.”
“Then, you really don’t know any of the facts?” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Excuse me now, dear, I see Emily beckoning me; she wants to ask me about a new seamstress I’ve discovered. Frances doesn’t know a bit more than we do,” she whispered to the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Jack hasn’t told her a thing, so he evidently still cares for Dorothy, and she—”
“That’s just it,” wailed the girl with the dimple in her chin. “I’d have succeeded in making it up long ago, if they didn’t care quite so much!”
“Oh, dear,” said the president, “I am afraid that I am awfully stupid to-day, but the fact is that—”
“By the way, I heard that you slept at a hotel last night, Evelyn,” said the girl with the Roman nose, “how on earth did that happen?”
“It was all Tom’s fault,” returned the president, in an aggrieved tone, “only he, being a man, will not admit the fact. You see, he didn’t want to go to the reception at all, so he—”
“But, Nell said she met him in the street and gave him a verbal invitation, which he accepted with effusion.”