around her mouth, it
would have been treason to think of a day beyond twenty. She had known
but little of Marcia, and that little had shown her only as a lover of
dress and of admiration, besides being capricious to a degree unusual
even in a spoiled favorite.

A musical _soiree_ was under consideration. Marcia was a proficient upon
the harp and piano, and, as she had heard that Mr. Greenleaf, the
handsome painter, as she called him, was a fine singer, she determined
to practise some operatic duets with him, that should move all her
musical friends to envy.

"You seem to have taken a strong liking to this Mr. Greenleaf, Marcia."

"Yes, Lydia," replied the beauty, "I do like him, exceedingly,--what I
have seen of him. He will do--for a month or so. People are frequently
quite charming at first, like fresh bouquets,--but dull and tame enough
when the dew is off."

"But you can't have a new admirer, as you have fresh flowers, every
day."

"That's true, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."

"What a female Bluebeard you are!"

"Wouldn't you, now, like to meet some new, delightful person every day?
Consider how prosaic a man is, after you know all about him."

"I always find something new in a man really worth knowing."

"Do you? I wish I could. I always look them through as I used to my
toys. I never cared for my 'crying babies,' after I found out what made
them squeak."

"I am afraid the comparison will hold out farther than you intended. You
were never satisfied with your toys until you had not only explored
their machinery, but smashed them into the bargain."

"But men stand it better than toys. If they get smashed, as you say,
they heal wonderfully. I sometimes think, that, like lobsters, they can
repair their injuries by new growths,--fresh claws, and fins, and
feelers."

"Complimentary, truly! but I notice that you don't speak of vital
organs."

"Hearts, you mean, I suppose. That is an obsolete idea,--a relic of
superstition."

"But how many of these broken idols have you thrown aside, Marcia? Have
you kept account?"

"Dear me! no! Why should I?"

"It would be interesting, I think, to a student of social statistics, to
know how many engagements there are to one marriage, how many offers to
one engagement, how many flirtations to one offer, and how many tender
advances to one flirtation."

"Oh, Lydia! Love and Arithmetic! they never went together. I leave all
calculations to my wise and busy brother. I li