his true position, and become an object of
pity. Mere dollars and cents are a misleading criterion of poverty and
wealth.

I had seen my friends, and found that the mother and her new nestling
were in comparative comfort, and I was on the homeward stretch along the
beach, when I saw Mr. Chance walking toward me.

"I was commissioned to look you up," he said.

"Thank you," I replied, "I have been of age for some years."

Of course he noticed the coolness in my voice, and in some way I divined
that he knew the cause.

We went aboard our homeward-bound train about 5 o'clock.

Mr. Chance helped me on, and evidently expected to sit with me, but I
thwarted him by dropping down beside an elderly lady, an acquaintance
who happened to be in that coach. I felt no grudge against him, but I
didn't care to have him pass from such a girl as Miss Sprig to me; his
conduct with her impaired his value somewhat in my eyes. My elderly
friend saw and recognized the situation, I am sure, and governed her
later remarks accordingly.

Mr. Chance passed on, and took a seat with one of the superfluous men,
for contrary to the rule on most such occasions, the male gender was in
excess of the female. I had not expected him to return to Miss Sprig;
men always become satiated with such girls, soon or late.

My elderly acquaintance entered upon an animated conversation, that
became more and more personal, and finally reached a climax when she
leaned over, and said in a semi-whisper:

"My dear Miss Leigh, you ought to marry."

I had been told this a number of times; any one would suppose, to listen
to some of these women, that I had but to put out my hand, and pluck a
man from the nearest bush.

"I don't doubt you will marry some day, but I'm afraid you may not
choose wisely"--here she lowered her voice again--"after a man reaches
thirty-five he becomes very fixed in his ways, and I don't think it's
safe for a maiden lady to try to manage him; it needs some one of more
experience."

I knew she had Mr. Chance in mind, and I was so indignant at being
warned against a man who had never shown the first symptom of any such
folly as addressing me, that the blood mounted to my hair.

Observing this, my elderly companion whispered:

"I wasn't thinking of any one, in particular, my dear;" upon which I
grew more enraged, and the color in my face deepened until I must have
resembled an irate old turkey gobbler--"not of any one in particular, my