"Sylvia!"
"Would you? I know he's nearly as old as dad, and all that—but would you?"
"No, Sylvia."
"Well, then, I would. But he likes you better than me."
"He likes us both as his friend's little girls."
"I know; he'd never think of us in any other light. Still, if he liked me best, I'd make him think."
"How, Sylvia?"
"Why, I'd just ask him to marry me."
"He'd think you wanted the gold."
"That he wouldn't. It shows how little you know of him."