Quite in contrast with her was the young woman from Macy's, whose garb was almost Quaker-like in its simplicity. Mrs. Wyman surveyed her with a contemptuous glance, and no doubt mentally contrasted her plainness with her own showy apparel. But the Disagreeable Woman's eye seemed to rest approvingly on her young companion. They started out ahead of the rest of us. "What a very plain person Miss Canby is!" said the widow, as we emerged into the street, her arm resting lightly in mine. "Do you refer to her dress or her face and figure?" "Well, to both." "She dresses plainly; but I suspect that is dictated by economy. She has a pleasant face." "It is the face of a peasant." "I didn't know there were any peasants in America." "Well, you understand what I mean. She looks like a country girl." "Perhaps so, but is that an objection?" "Few country girls are stylish." "I don't myself care so much for style as for good health and a good heart." "Really, Dr. Fenwick, your ideas are very old-fashioned. In that respect you resemble my dear, departed husband." "Is it permitted to ask whether your husband has long been dead?" "I have been a widow six years," said Mrs. Wyman, with an ostentatious sigh. "I was quite a girl when my dear husband died." According to her own chronology, she was twenty-three. In all probability she became a widow at twenty-nine or thirty. But of course I could not insinuate any doubt of a lady's word. "And you have never been tempted to marry again?" I essayed with great lack of prudence. "Oh, Dr. Fenwick, do you think it would be right?" said the widow, leaning more heavily on my arm. "If you should meet one who was congenial to you. I don't know why not." "I have always thought that if I ever married again I would select a professional gentleman," murmured the widow. I began to understand my danger and tried a diversion. "I don't know if you would consider Prof. Poppendorf a 'professional gentleman'," I said. "Oh, how horrid! Who would marry such an old fossil?" "It is well that the Professor does not hear you." Perhaps this conversation is hardly worth recording, but it throws some light on the character of the widow. Moreover it satisfied me that should I desire to marry her there would be no violent opposition on her part. But, truth to tell, I would have preferred the young woman from Macy's, despite the criticism of Mrs. Wyman. One was artificial, the other was natural. We reached Schiller Hall, after a long walk. It was a small hall, looking something like a college recitation room. Prof. Poppendorf took his place behind a desk on the platform and looked about him. There were scarcely a hundred persons, all told, in the audience. The men, as a general thing, were shabbily dressed, and elderly. There were perhaps twenty women, with whom dress was a secondary consideration. "Did you ever see such frights, Doctor?" whispered the widow. "You are the only stylishly dressed woman in the hall."