“And what is it this morning?” asked Eve, smiling across at the sleek head bent above the embroidery frame.

“Mr. Herrick.  Tell me what you think of him, Eve.”

“I haven’t thought—­much.”

“But you ought to.  I’m positive he is very much impressed, dear.”

“Really?  With what?”

“With you.”  Eve laughed, softly.

“Carrie, you’re incorrigible!  You won’t be satisfied until you’ve got me married to some one.”

“Of course I shan’t.  I don’t intend that you shall make the mistake I did.”

“You didn’t make a mistake, you dear thing.  Your mistake would have been to marry.  You’d never have been contented with just one man, Carrie; you know you think every one you meet is perfectly beautiful."’

“Because I haven’t one of my very own,” replied Miss Mullett, tranquilly.  “I made a great mistake in not marrying.  I would have been happier married, I’m sure.  Every woman ought to have a man to look after; it keeps her from worrying over trifles.”

“Do you think I worry over trifles?” asked Eve.

“You’re worrying over that story this minute.”

“If I am, it’s unkind of you to call my stories trifles.  Please remember that if it wasn’t for the stories, such as they are, I couldn’t afford marmalade with my tea.”

“And you probably couldn’t afford me,” said Miss Mullett, “and I guess I’m a good deal like marmalade myself—­half sweet and half bitter.”  Miss Mullett laughed at the conceit.

“Anyway, dear, you don’t cloy,” said Eve.  “But you’re not like marmalade the least bit; you’re—­you’re like a nice currant jelly, just tart enough to be pleasant.  How’s that?”

“Just so long as you don’t call me a pickle I don’t mind,” replied the other.  Presently:  “You must acknowledge that he’s very attractive, dear.”

“Who?” asked Eve, coming suddenly out of her thoughts.

“Mr. Herrick.  And I think he has the most wonderful voice, too; don’t you?  It’s so deep and—­and manly.”

“Carrie, if his Satanic Majesty called on us, you’d be telling me after he’d gone how manly he looked!”

“Well, I’m not one to deny the resemblance between man and the Devil,” responded Miss Mullett, with a chuckle.  “I dare say that’s why we like them so—­the men, I mean.”

“Does Mr. Herrick strike you as being somewhat devilish?” inquired Eve, idly.

“N-no, I suppose not.  Not too much so, at least.  I think he must be very kind; he has such nice eyes.  He’s the sort of man that makes a lovely husband.”

Eve clapped her hands to her ears, laughing.

“Carrie, stop it!  I refuse to listen to any more laudations of Mr. Herrick!  Think how the poor man’s ears must burn!”

“Let them.  He has very nice ears, Eve.  Did you notice how small and close they were?”

“I did not!” declared Eve despairingly.  “Nor did I specially observe his teeth or his hair or his feet, or—­”