Both Kearns and the Professor seemed quite perplexed.
The Colonel laughed. “Now you are confronted with a poser,” he said. “This might be a rather awkward question under some circumstances, but you can certainly answer it without danger of making any particular lady jealous.”
“Now, papa,” protested Beatrice, “please don’t interrupt and lead away from my question.”
“I fear it is useless to appeal to me, Miss Cuming,” finally answered the Professor. “My friend, I imagine, is better qualified to answer such a question.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that!” exclaimed Kearns; “I’ve noticed that you scientists, for all your air of scientific abstraction, have very often an exceedingly keen eye to feminine charms and graces. Who was the most beautiful woman? How can one answer such a question when all the women of—of—our day were so beautiful! In those days, to walk up Broadway from Twenty-third to Thirty-fourth streets, on a bright afternoon, was to see a galaxy of American beauty and Paris fashions pass in review.”
“Broadway, between Twenty-third and Thirty-fourth streets,” repeated Miss Beatrice. “Where is that, papa?”
“Oh, my dear,” answered the Colonel, “that’s a part of the city given over entirely to the business section. You have never been there.”
“I see!” answered Beatrice thoughtfully. “But what did you say about Paris fashions, Mr. Kearns? Did the ladies in those days get their fashions from Paris?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Kearns. “Paris was then considered the great centre from which all the fashions in dresses and bonnets were procured.”
“What a funny idea!” laughed the girl. “To-day,” she continued proudly, “our capital and our Court give the fashions to the world.”