“I’m nineteen,” she said, in rather an injured tone, “and I’ve always made up my mind to marry young, if I got a good enough offer. I hate old maids. Oh, excuse me. I don’t mean you, of course. I wouldn’t marry a clerk, you understand, just to be marrying. I’m not so silly. I have plenty of common-sense in other things, and I’m going to put some of it into the marriage question. Don’t you think I’m sensible?”
“Very,” I answered; but I didn’t, Tabby. I thought she was a goose.
“Well now,” proceeded my young caller, settling her ribbons with a pretty air of importance, and looking at me out of the most innocent eyes in the world, “my sister Grace married Brian Beck because he had such a lot of money. But you know he is dissipated, and at first Grace almost went distracted. Then she made up her mind to let him go his own gait, and she has as good a time as she can on his money. His Irish name Brian is her thorn in the flesh, and he teases her nearly out of her wits about it. We have great fun on the yacht every summer. Brian is awfully good to me, and invites nice men to take with us; still, much as I like Brian as a brother-in-law, I shouldn’t care to have a husband like him. Now, I suppose you wonder why on earth I am telling you these things, and why I don’t tell one of the girls I go with.”
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed in protest.
“Of course. I see you think it wouldn’t be safe. Girls just can’t help telling, to save their lives. Sometimes they don’t intend to, and then it’s bad enough. But sometimes they do it just to be mean, and you can’t help yourself. I have plenty of confidence in you though, and you don’t look as if you’d be easily shocked. You look as though you could tell a good deal if you wanted to. You’re an awfully comfortable sort of a person. Now, let me tell you. I have two offers. One is from Clinton Frost, and the other is from Jack Whitehouse. You have seen me with Mr. Frost, haven’t you? A dark, fierce, melancholy man, with black eyes and hair, and very distinguished looking.
“I think he has a history. He throws out hints that way. He is gloomy with everybody but me, and Brian will do nothing but joke with him. There is nothing Mr. Frost dislikes as much as to laugh or to see other people laugh. Brian calls him ‘Pet’s nightmare,’ and threatens to give him ink to drink.
“I believe Mr. Frost hates Brian. He says the name of our yacht, Hittie Magin, is unspeakably vulgar. Nothing pleases Brian more than to force Mr. Frost or Grace to tell strangers the name of it. Their mere speaking the words throws Brian into convulsions of laughter. Then, if people comment on it, he tells them that the name is of his wife’s selection, in deference to his Irish family. And Grace almost faints with mortification. Mr. Frost says he will give me a yacht twice as good as Brian’s. He adores me. He says I am the only thing in life which makes him smile.”
I felt that I could sympathize with Mr. Frost on this point.
“Then there’s Jack Whitehouse, Norris Whitehouse’s nephew. Mr. Norris Whitehouse is a great friend of yours, isn’t he? Do you know, I never think of him as an ‘eligible,’ although he is a bachelor. I should as soon think of a king in that light. He impresses me more than any man I ever knew. Don’t you consider him odd? No? I do. He is so clever that you would be afraid of him, if it wasn’t for his lovely manners, which make you feel as though what you are saying is just what he has been wanting to know, and he is so glad he has met some one who is able to tell him. Actually he treats me with more respect than some of the young men do. He makes me feel as if I were a woman, and he had a right to expect something good of me. I never said that to anybody before, but I can talk to you and feel that you understand me. I like to feel that people think there is something to me, even if I know that it isn’t much. Mrs. Asbury says that Mr. Whitehouse is the courtliest man she knows. You know the story of the Whitehouse money, don’t you? Jack told it to me with tears in his eyes, and I don’t wonder at it. You know Jack’s father and mother died when he was very young. Norris was his father’s favorite, and the old gentleman made a most unjust will, leaving only a life interest in the property to Jack’s father; then it all went to his favorite younger son, Norris. Now, you know what most men would do under the circumstances. They would acknowledge the injustice of the will, but they would keep the money. This proves to me what an unusual man Mr. Norris Whitehouse is, for he immediately made over to his little nephew Jack one half of the property—just what his father ought to have been able to leave him—and Jack is to come into that when he is twenty-five. Don’t you think that was noble? Jack worships him. He says no father could have been more devoted to an only son than his uncle Norris has been to him. He travelled with him, and gave up years of his life to superintending Jack’s education.
“Now, whoever marries Jack will really be at the head of that elegant house, for you know it hasn’t had a mistress since Jack’s mother died, years ago. I should like that, although I do wish more of the expense was in furniture instead of in pictures and tapestries. But that is his uncle’s taste.