“Are you going to that swell affair?” interrupted Puddy. “I envy you.”
“I don't,” said Evelyn scornfully. “Joe Harding's little better than an idiot, and he's notorious in many ways.”
“He can give swell dinners, though, and the best people are his guests.”
“No, they're not,” said Evelyn emphatically. “I'm not there and never will be.”
“Young ladies, come to order,” said Hilda in a severe tone, “and listen to my tale of woe. After the Harding dinner I go to the opera with the Harding party, and then, with my chaperone, that pink of propriety, Mrs. Warren, I attend the Pachmann reception at the Rutherfords. Now, if your scrubwoman can name a longer, harder, or——”
“More soul and brain enervating list,” continued Evelyn.
“I should be pleased—I mean pained to hear it,” concluded Hilda.
“And what does it all amount to?” asked Evelyn. “Will any one tell me what you are working for?”
“A settlement,” said Nannie promptly. “I'm the only niece of poor but impecunious relatives, and they expect me to do my best and marry well.”
“Goodness, child!” exclaimed Hilda, “I hope you don't tell the brutal, cold-blooded truth in society!”