She was silent a moment. Then she said: "I was wondering what I would do if I had a thousand dollars to give away."
"What do you think you would do?"
"Speaking for my own preferences I think I should like to establish a country club."
"The very thing. If there is one crying want more than another in Meadowvale it is a country club, with golf links, tennis courts, and shower baths."
"Now you are laughing at me."
"Not at all. Fancy old Hank and you playing a foursome with Aunt Mary and me for the cider and apples. Why, it would add years of robustness to our waning lives."
"No," said the girl decisively. "It isn't feasible."
"Then," I went on musingly, "we might have an Art Institute, or the Phyllis Kinglake School of Expression, or the Meadowvale Woman's Club, or the Colonial Dames, or, best of all, the Daughters of the American Revolution."
"That shows how little you appreciate the local situation," she responded quickly, "for your best of all is worse and worse. Imagine an order of Daughters in a place where every woman's ancestors did nothing but fight in the Revolution. As well call a town meeting at once. Ah,"—with a sigh—"I see that I shall never spend the thousand dollars in Meadowvale."
"Don't be too sure of that, my dear Phyllis," I exclaimed in an outburst, for I was in a particularly happy and generous mood; "and remember that when you do decide how the money is to be philanthropically invested we shall see that it is forthcoming."