Mamie admitted that he was a very fine fellow, indeed.
“Tell me, Mamie,” said her mother, assuming a tone at once cheerful and confidential, “is not Johnnie Bond very nearly your ideal of what a husband ought to be?”
“Not in the least!” answered the young girl promptly. Totty looked very much surprised.
“No? Why, Mamie, I thought you always liked him so much!”
“So I do, in a way. But he is not at all in my style, mamma.”
“What is your style, as you call it?” Totty seemed intensely interested as she paused for an answer. Mamie blushed, and looked down at a piece of work she was holding.
“Well—to begin with,” she said, speaking quickly, “Mr. Bond is three-quarters lawyer and one-quarter idiot. At least I believe so. And all the rest of him is boating and tennis and—everything one does, you know—sport and all that. I never heard him make an intelligent remark in his life, though papa says he is as clever as they make them, for a lawyer of course. You know what I mean, mamma. He is one of those dreadfully earnest young men, who do everything with a purpose, as if it meant money, and they meant to get it. Oh, I could not bear to marry one of them! They are all exactly alike—so many steam engines turned out by the same maker!”
“Dear me, Mamie!” laughed Mrs. Trimm. “What very decided opinions you have!”
“I suppose Grace Fearing has decided opinions, too, in the opposite direction, or she would not have married him. I never can understand her, either, with those great dark eyes and that determined expression—she looks like a girl out of a novel, and I believe there is no more romance about her than there is in a hat-stand! There cannot be, if she likes Master Johnnie Bond—and there is no reason why she should marry him unless she does like him, is there?”
“None that I can see, but that is a very good one—good enough for any one, I should think. You would not care for Johnnie Bond, but you may care for some one else. You have not told me what your ideal would be like.”