troubling your mind about that, Master Christopher. You won't throw over
such a nice gentleman as him, will you, miss?"

"Certainly not; though hardly on the grounds which you mention."

"Well, miss, if you're set on marriage you're in luck to have got such a
pleasant-spoken gentleman as Master Christopher--or I should say, Mr.
Farringdon, begging his pardon. Such a fine complexion as he's got, and
never been married before, nor nothing. For my part I never thought you
would get a husband--never; and I've often passed the remark to Mr. and
Mrs. Bateson here. 'Mark my words,' I said, 'Miss Elisabeth Farringdon
will remain Elisabeth Farringdon to the end of the chapter; she's too
clever to take the fancy of the menfolk, and too pale. They want
something pink and white and silly, men do."

"Some want one thing and some another," chimed in Mrs. Bateson, "and
they know what they want, which is more than women-folks do. Why, bless
you! girls 'll come telling you that they wouldn't marry so-and-so, not
if he was to crown 'em; and the next thing you hear is that they are
keeping company with him, and that no woman was ever so happy as them,
and that the man is such a piece of perfection that the President of the
Conference himself isn't fit to black his boots."

"You have hit upon a great mystery, Mrs. Bateson," remarked Christopher,
"and one which has only of late been revealed to me. I used to think, in
my masculine ignorance, that if a woman appeared to dislike a man, she
would naturally refuse to marry him; but I am beginning to doubt if I
was right."

Mrs. Bateson nodded significantly. "Wait till he asks her; that's what I
say. It's wonderful what a difference the asking makes. Women think a
sight more of a sparrow in the hand than a covey of partridges in the
bush; and I don't blame them for it; it's but natural that they should."

"A poor thing but mine own," murmured Christopher.

"That's not the principle at all," Elisabeth contradicted him; "you've
got hold of quite the wrong end of the stick this time."

"I always do, in order to give you the right one; as in handing you a
knife I hold it by the blade. You so thoroughly enjoy getting hold of
the right end of a stick, Betty, that I wouldn't for worlds mar your
pleasure by seizing it myself; and your delight reaches high-water-mark
when, in addition, you see me fatuously clinging on to the ferrule."

"Never mind what women-folk say about women-folk, Miss Elisa