"Because I haven't one of my very own," replied Miss Mullett, tranquilly. "I made a great mistake in not marrying. I would have been happier married, I'm sure. Every woman ought to have a man to look after; it keeps her from worrying over trifles."
"Do you think I worry over trifles?" asked Eve.
"You're worrying over that story this minute."
"If I am, it's unkind of you to call my stories trifles. Please remember that if it wasn't for the stories, such as they are, I couldn't afford marmalade with my tea."
"And you probably couldn't afford me," said Miss Mullett, "and I guess I'm a good deal like marmalade myself—half sweet and half bitter." Miss Mullett laughed at the conceit.
"Anyway, dear, you don't cloy," said Eve. "But you're not like marmalade the least bit; you're—you're like a nice currant jelly, just tart enough to be pleasant. How's that?"
"Just so long as you don't call me a pickle I don't mind," replied the other. Presently: "You must acknowledge that he's very attractive, dear."
"Who?" asked Eve, coming suddenly out of her thoughts.
"Mr. Herrick. And I think he has the most wonderful voice, too; don't you? It's so deep and—and manly."
"Carrie, if his Satanic Majesty called on us, you'd be telling me after he'd gone how manly he looked!"