“Why, the fellows are all coming after her.  She’s far the finest girl in town.”

“But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all, even while she’s pleasant to them; and doesn’t lead any one of them on a step further than the rest.”

“Ay, but in time—­she’s eighteen now, you know.”

“Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with, and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does?  Just fancy Margaret accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them.”

“I know,” said I; “but many a girl has taken a man that other men couldn’t see anything in.”

“Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they make the best of what they can get.  But you may depend on’t, Margaret has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish fop, or any of these that hang about her.”

’Twas not Phil’s way to speak ill of people, but when one considered men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and unworthy.

“You know,” he added, “how soon she tires of any one’s society.”

“But,” said I, dubiously, “if none of them has a chance, how is it with us?”

“Why, ’tis well-proved that she doesn’t tire of us.  For years and years, she has had us about her every day, and has been content with our society.  That shows she could endure us to be always near her.”

It was true, indeed.  And I should explain here that, as things were in America then, and with Mr. Faringfield and Margaret, neither of us was entirely ineligible to the hand of so rich and important a man’s daughter; although the town would not have likened our chances to those of a De Lancey, a Livingstone, or a Philipse.  I ought to have said before, that Philip was now of promising fortune.  He had risen in the employ of Mr. Faringfield, but, more than that, he had invested some years’ savings in one of that merchant’s shipping ventures, and had reinvested the profits, always upon his benefactor’s advice, until now his independence was a certain thing.  If he indeed tried architecture and it failed him as a means of livelihood, he might at any time fall back upon his means and his experience as a merchant adventurer.  As for me, I also was a beneficiary of Mr. Faringfield’s mercantile transactions by sea, my mother, at his hint, having drawn out some money from the English funds, and risked it with him.  Furthermore, I had obtained a subordinate post in the customs office, with a promise of sometime succeeding to my father’s old place, and the certainty of remaining in his Majesty’s service during good behaviour.  This meant for life, for I had now learned how to govern my conduct, having schooled myself, for the sake of my mother’s peace of mind, to keep out of trouble, often against my natural impulses.  Thus both Phil and I might aspire to Margaret; and, moreover, ’twas like that her father would provide well for her if she found a husband to his approval.  It did not then occur to me that my employment in the English service might be against me in Mr. Faringfield’s eyes.