"
We climbed the steps, and, as we were going across the yard, Betty twined
her arm about Frances's waist. Wishing to comfort her by changing the
subject, she said:--
"I have neither powder nor rouge in my room, but I have black patches,
though I have never dared to use one, fearing to be accused of aping the
great ladies."
"Betty, there are no great ladies so good and beautiful as you," said
Frances, trying to check her weeping. "If I were a man, you should not go
long without a chance for a husband."
"Oh, I've had chances in plenty," answered Betty, proudly. "But father
says I'm too hard to suit and will die a maid. He says I want a
gentleman, and--" (Here she sighed and glanced involuntarily toward me.)
"He is right. I will have none other."
"Seek lower and fare better," said Frances.
"I don't know how it will all turn out," replied Betty with a sigh.
The topic seemed to be alive with sighs. "A woman may not choose, and
I suppose I shall one day take the man my father chooses, having no part
in the affair myself, though it is the most important one in my life."
"Nonsense, Betty," returned Frances. "You are like the rest of us, and
when the right one comes, you will seek him if need be--in a cellar. Take
my advice, Betty, when the right one comes, help him, and thank me ever
after."
When we entered the house, Frances went with Betty to her room, leaving
me in the tap-room, waiting to take my foolish cousin home.
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