that was all nonsense. You don't care a bit about each other and are
not in the least suited. I couldn't get up any sentiment for him myself;
he is much too cold-blooded and, well--_English_. They never can be like
us, no matter how hard they try. But in a way I like him, and Tom says
he is worth any ten men he ever met. I feel awfully sorry for him, out
there all alone--and it's a magnificent ranch--to say nothing of the
fact that he must be worth a lot of money besides. It would be perfectly
shameful if some San Francisco girl snapped him up--_and you know what
they are_. He belongs by right to us, and I for one shall see to it that
none of those man-eaters in San Francisco gets him. Did you notice how
attentive he was to Dolly the other night? Well, he actually called the
next day--she was out--and sent her flowers. Mrs. Haight saw him. She
says he looked dreadfully disappointed as he rode off. I take that with
a grain of salt, knowing Mrs. Haight; besides, he wouldn't break his
heart if a girl was out for good. But the fact remains that he did call,
and he hasn't called on another girl in Rosewater, much less sent her
flowers. Serena Wheaton and one or two others were at my house
yesterday. We are immensely excited over it. I am sure that if we
managed them both properly there would be a wedding in the spring. It
would be too delightful, for there hasn't been a bang-up wedding in
Rosewater since mine. And think of Dolly's trousseau! Every stitch would
come from New York. The San Francisco papers would be full of that
wedding, and St. Peter would be green with envy. And she would make him
such a good wife; such a beauty she is and such a dear good girl--just
the kind that wouldn't mind a man being haughty and overbearing. You two
would murder each other--but Dolly! The more I think of it the more
enthusiastic I am. We formed a plot last night, but as in a way he
belongs to you, I maintained that you should be consulted. But tell me
first--what do you think of it?"

"Of the match? I cannot imagine a better. What is your plan?"

"Last night Mrs. Colton had a bridge party, and I went over just as they
were finishing hissing at one another over a spoon that cost
seventy-five cents. After some of them had gone, the rest began to talk
about Dolly and Mr. Gwynne--I don't think the town has talked about
anything else since your party--except those everlasting cards, of
course. Well, the upshot was that I suggested we should