"Oh!" cried the younger, for all expression of unspeakable things.

"I think he has very good eyes," admitted Penelope.

"Oh, he HAS! And didn't you like the way his sackcoat
set? So close to him, and yet free--kind of peeling away
at the lapels?"

"Yes, I should say he was a young man of great judgment.
He knows how to choose his tailor."

Irene sat down on the edge of a chair. "It was so nice
of you, Pen, to come in, that way, about clubs."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it except opposition,"
said Penelope. "I couldn't have father swelling on so,
without saying something."

"How he did swell!" sighed Irene. "Wasn't it a relief
to have mamma come down, even if she did seem to be all
stocking at first?"

The girls broke into a wild giggle, and hid their faces
in each other's necks. "I thought I SHOULD die,"
said Irene.

"'It's just like ordering a painting,'" said Penelope,
recalling her father's talk, with an effect of dreamy
absent-mindedness. "'You give the painter money enough,