is one of the most agreeable gossips I ever met,--knows everybody
and everything. He has at his finger-ends the history of all who
were belles in my time, and" (complacently) "I find that few have
done better than I, while some, with all their opportunities, chose
very crooked sticks."

"You are right, mamma. It seems to me that neither of us half
appreciates papa. He works right on so quietly and steadily, and
yet he is not a machine, but a man."

"Oh, I appreciate him. Nine out of ten that he might have married
would have made him no end of trouble. I don't make him any. Well,
after talking about the people we used to know, Mr. Lanniere began
a tirade against the times and the war, which he says have cost him
a hundred thousand dollars; but he took care in a quiet way to let
me know that he has a good many hundred thousands left. I declare,
Marian, you might do a great deal worse."

"Do you not think I might do a great deal better?" the young girl
asked, with a frown.

"I have no doubt you think so. Girls will be romantic. I was,
myself; but as one goes on in life one finds that a million, more
or less, is a very comfortable fact. Mr. Lanniere has a fine house
in town, but he's a great traveller, and an habitue of the best
hotels of this country and Europe. You could see the world with
him on its golden side."

"Well, mamma, I want a man,--not an habitue. What's more, I must
be in love with the man, or he won't stand the ghost of a chance.