Babbie kicked the fringe of the couch cover savagely with her shiny, high-heeled slipper. "I don't want to, Betty Wales," she declared. "I shan't pretend that I want to, but--oh, you queer old Power behind the Throne!" She leaned forward, scattering the pillows right and left, and enveloped Betty in a riotous hug. "I might just as well do what you say first as last. The reason why you get what you want when the rest of us can't is because you always want the right kind of things. It is absurd, of course, to have such expensive dresses when they're almost sure to be trampled on in the crowd and ruined the first time we wear them, and it's mean too, I suppose, if it hurts people's feelings. So here goes for the simple life!" Babbie sent one shiny slipper flying after the violet-scented box.