“That is right,” said Nancy; “you know we shall make you our heir, that is, sister Jane will, and we want you to be a leader socially and in your profession. You know men have such a wide sphere of influence. All our lives centre in you.” “Don’t build too much upon my future, Aunt Nancy, though I will do my best.” “Do you correspond with Miss Watterson?” said Jane half hesitatingly. “We have done so, but we have discontinued it, as I am sure she thinks the difference in our ages a possible obstacle to our future happiness.” “Well, she is a wise woman not to let a boy be captured even in accord with his own wishes. Why it is that young men so often like older women I’m sure I can’t tell.” “Because they are natural and not simpering, feel an interest and dare to show it, are vivacious without flippancy, and usually well-enough read to be companionable to an educated man. You know, Aunt Jane, a man doesn’t want simply a pretty face to look on forever. He must have something besides a vine nowadays.” “Well, tell us about Miss Watterson?” “She has travelled abroad, plays delightfully, loves to do charitable work, has tact enough to know when to talk and when to be silent, likes to look well, but does not spend all her time in dress as do some whom I know, whether their fathers can afford it or not, and doesn’t seem to make any especial effort to win my affections, but is thoroughly appreciative.” “Why hasn’t she married before this? Been in love and been disappointed, I warrant.” “That I don’t know. She has never told me. I suppose, like yourself, Aunt Jane, she hasn’t found a man good enough.” Jane Holcomb smiled in a pleased kind of way at this delicate allusion to her superior judgment. “Well, Justus, I wish you would promise me that you won’t write to Miss Watterson for one year, and by that time you will probably have found some one more suitable to your age.” “I promise, but I shall be so busy with my profession that I fear no other lady will command my time.” When Justus departed Jane kissed him with not only maternal fondness, but with that woman’s pride that feels she has for once circumvented an attractive woman, doubtless in love with a bright and handsome nephew. “One year will fix matters,” she said to Nancy, after Justus had gone. “Few loves can bear such a silence as that.” “I fear Justus will be lonesome,” said Nancy, who still had a little longing in her heart that the youth might have the woman of his choice, even though “unsuitable,” as Jane had said. There was a touch of romance in Nancy that would have made her an interesting woman if circumstances had been permitted to develop her.