"We think that when clouds are in the sky there is always a chance of rain; and, when there is a chance of rain, we think it is very extraordinary to say that it is a fine day," adds Miss Charlotte.
My legal bachelor starts another topic, and finds his faculty for impromptu definition exercised by the three Miss Cruttwells, always in the same briskly-disputatious manner. He goes away—as I hope and trust—thinking what an excellent lawyer's wife any one of the three young ladies would make. If he could only be present in the spirit, after leaving the abode of the Miss Cruttwells in the body, his admiration of my three disputatious spinsters would, I think, be greatly increased. He would find that, though they could all agree to a miracle in differing with him while he was present, they would begin to vary in opinion, the moment their visitor's subjects of conversation were referred to in his absence. He would, probably, for example, hear them take up the topic of the weather again, the instant the house-door had closed after him, in these terms:
"Do you know," he might hear Miss Martha say, "I am not so sure after all, Charlotte, that you were right in saying that it could not be a fine day, because there were clouds in the sky?"
"You only say that," Miss Charlotte would be sure to reply, "because the sun happens to be peeping out, just now, for a minute or two. If it rains in half-an-hour, which is more than likely, who would be right then?"
"On reflection," Miss Barbara might remark next, "I don't agree with either of you, and I also dispute the opinion of the gentleman who has just left us. It is neither a fine day, nor a bad day."
"But it must be one or the other."
"No, it needn't. It may be an indifferent day."
"What do you mean by an indifferent day?"
So they go on, these clever girls of mine, these mistresses in the art of fencing applied to the tongue. I have not presented this sample from my collection, as one which is likely to suit any great number. But, there are peculiarly constituted bachelors in this world; and I like to be able to show that my assortment of spinsters is various enough to warrant me in addressing even the most alarming eccentricities of taste. Will nobody offer for this disputatious sample—not even for the dog-fancying Miss Charlotte, with the two fat puppies thrown in? No? Take away the Miss Cruttwells, and let us try what we can do, thirdly and lastly, with the Miss Duckseys produced in their place.
I confidently anticipate a brisk competition and a ready market for the spinsters now about to be submitted to inspection. You have already had a sentimental sample, gentlemen, and a disputatious sample. In now offering a domestic sample, I have but one regret, which is, that my spinsters on the present occasion are unhappily limited to two in number. I wish I had a dozen to produce of the same interesting texture and the same unimpeachable quality.