"Back to the sextette, I guess, unless Mr. Zinsheimer will star me."
"Where is 'Feathers'?" yawned Pinkie. "Haven't seen him for a week."
"Never you mind where he is," retorted Flossie, suddenly turning to her chum, suspiciously. "You've been askin' too many questions about Mr. Zinsheimer lately. Don't you be ungrateful. Remember all I did for you."
Pinkie almost cried at this unjust insinuation. "Why, Flossie," she half sobbed, "I don't want Marky. The idea of thinking I'd want to steal him away from my dearest friend."
As Flossie consoled Pinkie and apologized, Mrs. Anderson approached a delicate subject nervously but with a determination strengthened by the memory of many similar occasions. "Young ladies," she began, "I hope you haven't forgotten about our little account."
"It shall be settled this evening, without fail," replied Flossie, rising haughtily. "I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you, but you shall have a check after dinner."
"You know I am perfectly willing to let the bills run on," explained Mrs. Anderson, with that ever-present doubt that one always has in dunning delinquents, "but neither of you young ladies has been trying to get a position."
"Not trying, indeed," repeated Pinkie. "We go to the managers' offices every day, but the horrid brutes will not see us."
"But look at Miss Farnum," said Aunt Jane. "She came here without experience, and secured an engagement instantly."