"Oh, very well," said the girl, rather sharply. "Have you anybody in particular in view?" "I haven't really fixed on anybody yet," he explained. "I wanted your advice first, for I'm going to rely on that. I feel sure you won't let me make a mistake about a matter so important to me." "Then don't let's waste any time!" she cried, peremptorily. "Really," he declared, "it's astonishing how a little bit of a thing like you can be so bossy." She looked at him fiercely, so he made haste to add, "But I like it--I like it!" The girl laughed, but with a certain constraint, so it seemed to him. "Come, now," she said, "if I must help you, let me see your list of proposed victims!" "Do you know Dr. Pennington, the rector of St. Boniface's, in Philadelphia?" he began. "Well, he has two daughters--nice girls, both of them--" "Which one do you want?" asked the girl. "The tall one who squints, or the fat one with red hair?" "Come, now," he returned, "she doesn't really squint, you know." "Call it a cast in her eye if you like; I don't mind. It isn't anything to me," she asserted. "Is it the tall one you want?" "I don't care," he answered. "You don't care?" she repeated. "No," he returned; "that's why I've come to you. I don't care. Which one do you recommend?" "I don't recommend either of them!" she responded, promptly. "I shouldn't be a true friend if I let you throw yourself away on one of those frights!" "I'll give them up, if you say so," said he; "but I've always heard that they are good, quiet girls--domesticated, you know--and--" "Who is next?" she pursued, with a return of her arbitrary manner. "Well," he suggested, bashfully, "I haven't any reason to suppose she would look at me, and it sounds so conceited in me to suggest that such a handsome woman--and so rich, too--would listen to me, but--" "Who is this paragon?" his companion demanded. "Didn't I mention her name?" he responded. "I thought I had. We passed her only a little while ago--Mrs. Poole." "Mrs. Poole?" the girl replied. "That was the sick-looking creature in black lolling back in a victoria, wasn't it?" "She isn't sick, really," he retorted; "but I don't think mourning is becoming to her. Of course, if we are married she will wear colors and--" "I didn't know you were willing to take up with a widow!" she interrupted, with a slight touch of acerbity. "I thought it was a girl you were looking for!" "It was a wife of some sort," he replied. "I don't know myself what would suit me best. That's why I am consulting you. I'm going to rely on your judgment--" "But you mustn't do that!" she cried. "It is just what I've got to do!" he insisted. "And if you think it would be a mistake for me to marry a widow, why--it's for you to say."