“Oh, well, Kate is color blind, any way,” said the girl with the eyeglasses.
“Yes, and she is a little deaf, too,” remarked the president, “and really does not know just how sharp her own speeches sound.”
“Perhaps not,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin, “but I shall blackball her just the same. By the way, Alice is giving a birthday dinner party next week—twenty-six covers, one for each year. Clever idea, isn’t it?”
“For whose birthday?” asked the girl with the classic profile. “Her own? Ah, really, I knew she was forgetful, but this is carrying it too far.”
“I wonder why otherwise sensible people will tell such stories about their ages,” said the girl with the eyeglasses.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the brown-eyed blonde.
“Neither do I,” said the girl with the classic profile.
“Of course, it doesn’t matter who knows my age, as yet,” said the brown-eyed blonde.
“Nor mine,” remarked the girl with the classic profile.
“Nor mine, either,” said the girl with the eyeglasses.