, rose, went over to her
dressing-table, seated herself and picked up a round cut-glass jar with
a silver top. The jar contained cold cream, or something of that sort.
Mattie, having filed down her nail, was now faithfully brushing again,
in the forties. Her eyes followed Cally; rested upon her as she sat.
These eyes, large, dark, and grave, with the sweetest, curlingest
lashes, had been the turning-point in Mattie's life. She had early
recognized their unique merits and values, and round them, with infinite
pains, she had built up her "type." And now at twenty-three, she was
sweet, artless, and full of adorable intellectual dependences,
deliciously stupid (with the spectacled young men), and her favorite
expression was "poor little Me."

Mattie, brushing, looked at Carlisle, and wondered if she possibly _had_
refused Mr. Canning, and, if so, why Mr. Canning had skipped back just
to stay over Sunday and not go near her, and why Cally was so mysterious
and secretive all of a sudden. She always told Cally every single thing
about her affairs, reporting in detail what was "the most" each man said
to her, and always bringing her their letters to read, even Mr.
Dudley's, who wrote such perfectly beautiful ones. Cally had always done
the same with her, till lately, but now she was a _perfect clam_. Not a
word would she tell about Mr. Canning, and to-night J. Forsythe Avery
had proposed at last (Cally said), but she barely mentioned the fact, as
if it were of no interest, and declined positively to repeat his words,
which was always the interesting (and also the convincing) part
of it....

"What's the matter?" said Mattie, aloud and alertly.

Cally, sitting and rubbing cold cream (or whatever it was) had suddenly
given a long sigh. At her friend's question, she turned half round, but
did not cease the rubbing.

"Mats, don't you ever get sick and tired of all these things we do to
ourselves to make us look pretty and attractive and--desirable?"

Mattie, looking rather shocked, said: "Why, what things do you mean?"

"Oh, these things!... Massage and manicure and primp!--hot baths and
lotions and primp!--sleep and a little exercise to make pink cheeks and
primp some more. Hours and hours every day just to coddling our little
bodies! Isn't it all rather sickening, when you really stop to think?"

"I must say," answered Mattie, quite stiffly, "I can see nothing
sickening about it. I think it's a woman's duty to look just as