s of which I have been telling, I went to a picnic
gotten up by Mrs. Purblind, for the entertainment and delectation of Mr.
Purblind's cousin, now visiting her, a frivolous young thing, between
whom and myself there was not even the weather in common, for she would
label "simply horrid" a lovely gray day, containing all sorts of
possibilities for the imagination behind its mists and clouds.

I didn't care for this picnic, and didn't see why I was invited as most
of the guests were younger than myself. But it was one of those cases
where a refusal might be misconstrued, and so I went. We sat around the
white tablecloth _en masse_, for dinner; and in the course of the
passing of viands, Miss Sprig was asked to help herself to olives that
happened to be near her.

"Yes, do, while you have opportunity," said Mrs. Purblind.

"I always embrace opportunity," replied Miss Sprig with a simper.
Whereat Mr. Chance, sitting next her, suggested that, as a synonym of
opportunity, possibly he might stand in its stead.

I detest such speeches, they are properly termed soft, for they
certainly are mushy--lacking in stamina--fiber of any sort. But I could
have endured it, as I had endured much else of the same sort that day,
had it not come from Mr. Chance. It may be foolish of me, but his tone
and his words of the day before were still with me. They were so
dignified, so sensible, so manly, that I respected and admired him. Up
to that time I had not felt that I knew him, but after he spoke in that
way, it seemed as if we were acquainted. Now I saw how utterly mistaken
I had been, and I was mortified and disgusted.

The silly little speech I have quoted was not all, by any means; there
were more of the same kind, and actions that corresponded. Evidently he
was one of those instruments which are played upon at will by the
passing zephyr. With a self-respecting woman, he was manly; with a
vapid, bold girl, he was silly and familiar. I decided that I liked
something more stable, something that could be depended upon.

I was placed in a difficult position just then. Had I acted upon my
impulse, I should have risen and walked off--such conduct is an affront
to womanhood, I think; but I was held in my place by a fear--foolish, yet
grounded, that my action would be regarded as an expression of
jealousy, the jealousy of an old maid, of a woman much younger and
prettier than herself. This is but one of the many instances of the
injustice of