Catharine was touched by the eloquent earnestness of her friend’s manner, but it was not in her nature to be serious; she could only pause, to get over the embarrassment of feeling solemn, and then answer:
“Ada, your ideal of an old maid is charming, but unluckily, it is but an ideal. Who that saw the faultless picture you have just drawn, would recognize as its original Miss Trott, who, instead of sitting at anybody’s feet, spends her days pattering about town as a fetcher and carrier of scandal, or Miss Dolly Wiggin, whose religion is made up of pious detestation of her neighbors’ faults, and whose life is an epitome of the Pharisee’s prayer?”
Dearly as she loved Catharine, Ada felt sometimes that she deserved chiding for her levity; but as in all her attempts at reproof, Catharine invariably got the better of her, through her drollery and good-humor, Ada merely shook her head as she answered:
“Trifler! trifler! will nothing be sacred from your indomitable spirit of fun?”
“Certainly not old maids—and if you persist in being one, expect no bounds to my contempt.”
“My nature will steel me against it,” replied Ada, “for you well know that I am not one to be turned from any purpose by ridicule; and as argument on this subject, is about as unavailing as a homily on the virtues to a staring idiot, you had better leave me to my unhappy fate, and confine your exertions to the shaping of your own destiny. Marry if you will, dear Kate,” continued she, rising, “and swear by the simplicity of Venus’ doves; but don’t expect all your friends to go philandering over the world after your example. And now, come with me to my room, and tell me whether my dress for your wedding shall be of Organdie or Tarlatane.”
“I will, with pleasure,” exclaimed Catharine, gayly, “for I was just beginning to fear that you were:
‘A creature far too bright and good,
For human nature’s daily food,’
but, thank Folly! you remind me that you are nothing but a woman after all!”