"No, I suppose not. I never thought of that," said Lynn, gravely. "Well, let me see! you liked me in the first place because I didn't 'chase' you: and why did you like me, in the second?"
"You're a fine sport," said Mr. Lighton, pondering, "you're always ready for any thing, and you dance like a streak, and you're never tired, and you do make a fellow roar so. I suppose that's why."
"So these are my assets. Dancing like a 'streak'—whatever that may be: always being ready to skate and toboggan: and 'making a fellow roar so.' It doesn't sound attractive: however I never pretended to understand men. What a funny thing it is! No money, no beauty, no particular brains and one of the most eligible young men in the city begging me to marry him!"
"Your aunt likes me," said Mr. Lighton.
"She likes you very much; but she always confuses you with the new plumbing and the electric lights in your house. She can't conceive how I can withstand such fascinations. Poor Aunt Lucy! I wish I were a little more satisfactory: but I really cannot fall in love to order even to please her—not with a whole galaxy of electric lights."
"I don't know exactly what you're driving at," said Mr. Lighton, looking sullen, "but I think your aunt's a very sensible woman."
"So do I. I only wish I were half as sensible. I'm a great grief to her. You see, she feels rightly that a single woman with no independent income should struggle valiantly to avert the awful doom of old maid. Now, the deeper I sink in the mire of old-maiden-hood, the less I struggle."
"Is your aunt very fond of you?" asked Mr. Lighton curiously.
"No. She is much pleased at my popularity, which she doesn't understand in the least, and she regards it in the light of a personal reward for her goodness in adopting me. That is all."
"And your uncle? You don't mind my asking, do you?"