know how to describe it--her face looks a little weather-beaten.
She wears glasses."

"Thank you," said I. "And what sort of a looking person am I?"

Mrs. Hilary looked scornful. Miss Phyllis opened her eyes.

"How old do I look, Miss Phyllis?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said uncomfortably.

"Guess," said I sternly.

"F-forty-three--oh, or forty-two?" she asked, with a timid upward
glance.

"When you've done your nonsense--" began Mrs. Hilary; but I laid
a hand on her arm.

"Should you call me fat?" I asked.

"Oh, no; not fat," said Mrs. Hilary, with a smile, which she
strove to render reassuring.

"I am undoubtedly bald," I observed.

"You're certainly bald," said Mrs. Hilary, with regretful candor.

I took my hat and remarked: "A man has a right to think of
himself, but I am not thinking mainly of myself. I shall not