"And now, my dear," said Mr. DIBBLE, evidently glad that all the more important and serious part of the interview was over, "we come to the subject of your marriage. Mr. EDWIN has seen you here, occasionally, I suppose, and you may possibly like him well enough to accept him as a husband, if not as a friend!"
"He's such a perfectly absurd creature that I can't help liking him," returned FLORA, gravely; "but I am not certain that my utterly ridiculous deeper woman's love is entirely satisfied with the shape of his nose."
"That'll be mostly hidden by his whiskers, when they grow," observed her guardian.
"I hope they'll be bushy, with a frizzle at the ends and a bald place for his chin," said the young girl, reflectively; then suddenly asked: "If we _shouldn't_ be married, would either of us have to pay anything?"
"I should say not," answered Mr. DIBBLE, "unless you sued him for breach." (Here Miss CAROWTHERS was heard to murmur "BLODGETT," and hastily took an anti-nervous pill.)