upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a
world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms
were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was
full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that
was in my mind came out.

"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil--though 'tis none of my
business,--"

"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know."

"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you--any agreement or
understanding, I mean?"

Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly.

"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise
between her and you, either."

"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves
about--Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pass, each
waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and
carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold."

"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil.

"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl
in town."

"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all,
even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on
a step further than the rest."

"Ay, but in time--she's eighteen now, you know."

"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a
husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with,
and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret
accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van
Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or
Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them."

"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men
couldn't see anything in."

"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they
make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret
has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of
herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish
fop, or any of these that hang about her."

'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered
men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and
unworthy.

"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society."

"But," said I, dubiously, "if none of them has a chance, how is it
with us?"

"Why, 'tis well-proved that she doesn't tire of us. For years and
years, she has had us about her eve