170 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



June 



your taste. There are a dozen other men 

 who wouldn't agi-ee with jow, that's 

 one comfort. As I am so utterly repul- 

 sive in your eyes, I think I had better 

 say 'Good tifternoon' at once and re- 

 lieve you of my presence. ' ' 



"What nonsense you talk! I never 

 said a word about your appearance that 

 I know of. That's the worst of arguing 

 with a woman — she flies off at a tan- 

 gent, and there's no doing any good 

 with her. I don't, see vvhy you should 

 be ofieuded. You seemed to think it 

 just as impossible to fall in love with 

 me." 



"That's different — I mean I don't 

 care what yoB think, but other people 

 think — that's to say, I have always 

 been told — Seme people think I am 

 very nice, if you don't. I think it's per- 

 fectly hateful of you to say such things. 

 I should ilke to know, just as a matte? 

 of curic;sity, Vvhat it is in me you object 

 to so much?" 



"You v;on't like it, you know, when 

 you do hear. You'll be in a bigger rage 

 than ever. Much better leave it alone. 

 Well, if you will have it, I dislike the 

 way you do your hair. Wait a moment ; 

 it means mere than you think. It is not 

 only ugly in itself, but it shows a fatal 

 want of perception. Your beauty^if 

 you will a]lcv\' me to say so — is of a 

 classic order, and if you adopted a more 

 natural style of coitiure your appear- 

 ance would really be — er — uncommonly 

 fetching! 'Stead of that, you persist in 

 following a hideous exaggeration of 

 fashion, which destroys your individu- 

 ality and is utterly uusuited to your 

 style. It seems a smail tiling in itself 

 but it has XHrreaching consequences. 

 The moment v.e :.\:eet I notice it, don't 

 you know, and feil annoyed. The whole 

 time I am with you I am worrying 

 about it. It sf :r v p a chronic state of 

 exasperation. Poihi,^ -. you don't luider- 

 stand the feeling'' — 



"Oh, yes, I do! Perfectly! I feel the 

 same toward you because you will in- 

 sist on wearing enormous stand up col- 

 lars. I call that a want of perception, 

 if you like. I wouldn't be personal for 

 the world, but I have seen men with 

 /onger necks. When you want to speak 

 to your neighbor, you have to twist 

 your whole body. It makes me die with 

 laughing to see you. " 



■■'Delighted to afford you so much 

 amusement. Sorry I make mysrlf so 

 ridiculous! You are excessively polite, 

 I'm sure. " 



' 'You were a great deal worse your- 

 self. You said that I"— 



"Nothing cf the kind. You misun- 

 derstood me. I simply remarked" — ■ 



"Don't contradict! You said I was 

 an ugly thing, and that it exasperated 

 you only to see me. You did ! It makes 

 it worse to deny it. I can't think how 

 you can look me in the face!" 



"Why get excited? It's really not 

 worth while, and you will make your- 

 self so hot. It's not becoming to be hot. 

 I was about to say when you so rudely 

 interrapted me that you had misunder- 

 stood .the meaning of my remarks. I 

 simply observed"— 



"I don't care a little bit what you ob- 

 served. I am not going to talk to you 

 any longer. I am going across the room 

 to mamma. Good afternoon, Captain 

 May. You needn't dance with me at 

 Lacly Bolton's this evening, as my hair 

 annoys you so much. ' ' 



"I shall ask Miss Cunliffe instead. 

 She is a capital waltzer. Your mother 

 is waiting for you at the door. Fourth 

 and sixth, wasn't it, and the first extra? 

 I must ask her at once, as she is so 

 much engaged. Good afternoon, then. 

 Miss Blanchard, if you will go, and, as 

 the goeid little boys say, 'Thank you so 

 much for a pleasant afternoon. ' ' ' 



ON THE WAY HOME — HEPw SOLILOQUY. 



"He never thought of such a thing. 

 It never occurreel to him to think of me 

 in that light. Hateful creature! And 

 why not, I should like to know? Doesn't 

 he think I'm nice? * * * I never cared 

 for him, but he has no business not to 

 like me. What horrid taste ! * * * And 

 to talk cf a dozen other girls! That 

 means Lucie Charvie, I suppose, and 

 Adeline Howe. I have noticed that he 

 dances with them. * * * I don't see 

 why he should like them better than 

 me. I'm the prettiest, and I can be aw- 

 fully nice if I like. I have never been 

 really nice to him — not my very nicest — 

 or he wouldn't have talked as he did 

 today. * * * I might tiy the effect this 

 evening. I meant to be offended, but 

 perhaps the other would have more ef- 

 fect. I believe I'll try it. No one can 

 ever say that I am a flirt, but there are 



