“Then why on earth did you sleep at the hotel?” queried the girl with the Roman nose, in a bewildered tone.
“I—well, the fact is that I—in the dark, I had mistaken the key to his desk for the latch-key! And, oh, girls, if you had seen me driving home from the hotel at ten o’clock in the morning, in the gown I had worn at the reception!”
“You poor, dear thing!” cried the blue-eyed girl, “no wonder you chose ‘Woman in Politics’ for to-day’s discussion! If men are such tyrants as that, our only refuge will be equality in suffrage and—”
“Latchkeys,” said the girl with the eyeglasses, “though to be sure, we’d need pockets to keep them in, if we carried them. Sometimes, I suspect that the dressmakers are in league with the men to keep us from gaining our rights,” she added.
“Perhaps they are,” said the blue-eyed girl, with a startled air, “the men pay the bills and so the dressmakers may be in league with them!”
“You forget one thing, dear,” said the president, with a superior air. “It is the women who make the bills. You never heard of a man who ordered a dress for his wife did you?”
“I hope not,” replied the girl with the Roman nose, “at least, if she was obliged to wear it.”
“Well, dears,” said the president, “we really must adjourn, it is awfully late, but of course such a serious discussion could not be hurried. I think I must go and have a cup of bouillon to refresh me after making such serious demands upon the gray matter of my brain.”