“Don’t overwhelm me with gratitude, dearest; I really do not deserve it.”
“But, luckily for you, love, people seldom get their deserts.”
“Oh, girls, don’t quarrel,” said the president, wringing her hands; “I’ve always wanted this to be different from a man’s club, and now—”
“Really, Evelyn, you seem to be the one who is doing the quarreling,” said the brown-eyed blonde, tartly. “As for me, I am naturally amiable, and—”
“It is not your fault if your temper is a bit soured by repeated disappointments,” broke in the blue-eyed girl; “of course not. Everybody says it is no wonder.”
“I—I resign from this club,” sobbed the brown-eyed blonde. “I’ll not stay here another minute to be insulted!”
“Girls, girls,” said the president, “do be reasonable. I—”
“This is the first time I was ever accused of being unreasonable,” said the girl with the Roman nose; “and all I’ve got to say is, that I pity Tom from the bottom of my heart, and—”
“I don’t doubt but that you’d be glad to comfort him—if I was dead,” sobbed the president. “If this is all I am to get for keeping you at peace during the meetings, I’ll just resign, and let you run the club to suit yourselves. And a p-pretty mess you-you’ll make of it!” And she retired behind her handkerchief.
“I’ll resign, too, this very minute,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “I knew just how it would be when Dorothy asked me to join the club, but—”