y you men won't admit it.
Women do. They surely do. Any woman's ready to admit she'd rather
look nicer than any other woman than be all sorts of a girl other ways.
And though they don't ever reckon to admit it, men just feel that way,
too. Oh, I guess I know. The boys are just yearning for the girls to
think there's nothing but big 'thinks' moving around in their
well-greased heads. And they'd hate a girl who got the notion they had
time to stand around gawking in a mirror to see their clothes set
right, or study the look they're going to pour into the china blue eyes
of some tow-headed bundle who knows his bank wad down to the last cent."

She sighed heavily, but her eyes were literally dancing.

"But it's kind of nice that boys act that way," she went on. "It does
give a girl a chance to think him all sorts of a god for--a while.
Say, if she knew things just as they are, where'd she find that scrap
of romance which makes life all sunshine and storm clouds, instead of
the monotonous gray it really is?"

She pointed at the snowy bed laden with the precious costumes she must
use before the night was out.

"Say, wouldn't it be just awful if every girl knew that the man
she'd--marked down for her own, worried around with things like that
before every party he was to take her to, same as she does? I guess
she'll learn it all later when she marries him, and has two folks to
worry for instead of one. But, meanwhile, she just dreams that he's
dreaming those 'big thinks' that's going, some time, to set a dreaming
world wide awake to the mighty 'thinks' she dreams into her beau's
head."

Then she began to laugh, and the infection of it caught her father, who
gurgled heavily in chorus.

"Say, wouldn't it be a real circus if a big, strong man had to act the
same as us poor women? I mean when we're scheming to stir up a
sensation in the hearts of men, and in the envy depot of other girls,
when we enter the portals of a swell social gathering. Now Jeff. Say,
my Daddy, can you see him sort of mincing across the floor," she cried,
springing from her seat and pantomiming across the room, "smiling, and
smirking and bowing, this way and that, all done up in fancy bows, and
sheeny satins, and--and with combs in his sleek hair to hold it in
place, and with a jeweled tiara set on top of it? And then--yes, just
a teeny tiny touch of powder on his nose? My word!"

A happy chorus of laughter rang through the room as she re