“It seems to me that a single woman cannot be as useful as one ’whom the dignity of wifehood invests as with a garment.’  You know there is a stigma attached to old maids that must detract from their usefulness.”

“Yes, I know,” said Mrs. Hardyng; “and of late I am beginning to think that it is, perhaps, in some cases but too well merited.  Do you know, dear, that all the spinsters of my acquaintance have got married on their very first offer?  I can’t help feeling a little mortified that some of my models that I have held up triumphantly as examples to prove the usefulness and necessity of their existence, should have failed me in the end.”

“There is Miss Aylmar, who amassed a fortune by teaching a Ladies’ Seminary.  She was a pattern old maid in my estimation.  However, much to my chagrin, when I thought she was nearly ready to receive, after a long and useful life, the rewards for her good deeds in another world, she suddenly assumed the airs of a sixteen-year old boarding-school miss, and, after trying in vain to captivate, by the weight of her golden attractions, a young and handsome, but penniless professor, succeeded at length in fastening a respectable widower.  She trots him out regularly every Sunday with that ineffable smirk of satisfaction that only an old maid can assume.  Then there was Miss Anthon, a demure little body, who wore her gray hair brushed back from her placid face, without resort to hair dyes, cosmetics, or other rejuvenating articles of the toilet.  She kept her eyes open, though, and in her unobtrusive way, after lying in wait for her victim all these long and weary years, she suddenly pounced upon a fortune to reward her patient and persevering efforts.  You see, this woman had no capital of beauty, intellect or money, and so she assumed the only role that a quaint little creature like her could carry through successfully.  At the risk of her own life, she courageously sat through a case of malignant typhoid, in the hope of making an impression upon the heart of a good-looking youth, by restoring to him his invalid mother.  Unfortunately for her purpose, the old lady died, and, after finding that her disinterested efforts to captivate the son were in vain, she turned her attention to the task of consoling the disconsolate widower, and is now mamma-in-law to the man she wanted to marry.”

“You are not presenting a very attractive side of the picture,” said the other, laughing.

“No, but a true one, nevertheless.  I wish women would be true to themselves.”

“There is another failing of our sex,” said Clemence, “that has often come under my notice; and it is this:  Let a gentleman enter society and have it whispered around that he is what is called a ‘ladies’ man,’ with the added interest of one or two sensational anecdotes of a young lady who went insane out of a hopeless attachment for the gentlemanly scoundrel; or that this or that infuriated husband who has challenged him to mortal combat; and, though the stain of murder be upon that man’s soul, women who call themselves virtuous will welcome him with approving smiles.