gesture. "No, I shall
certainly do it, I did not mean to mislead you. I shall certainly do it,
but I cannot make up my mind which."

"Which?" said Mr. Dale vaguely.

"Yes," answered the little gentleman, "which. Of course you know that
I refer to the Misses Woodhouse. You must have noticed my attentions of
late, for I have shown a great deal of attention to both; it has been
very marked. Yet, Henry, I cannot tell which (both are such estimable
persons) which I--should--ah--prefer. And knowing your experience, a
married man yourself, and your reading on such subjects,--novels are
mostly based upon esteem,--I felt sure you could advise me."

A droll look came into Mr. Dale's face, but he did not speak.

Feeling that he had made a clean breast of it, and that the
responsibility of choice was shifted to his friend's shoulders, the
lawyer, taking a last draught from the silver mug, and setting it down
empty on the table, leaned comfortably back in his chair to await the
decision.

There was a long silence; once Mr. Denner broke it by saying, "Of course,
Henry, you see the importance of careful judgment," and then they were
still again.

At last, Mr. Dale, with a long sigh, straightened up in his chair. He
lifted his white fluted china tea-cup, which had queer little chintz-like
bunches of flowers over it and a worn gilt handle, and took a pinch of
tea from the caddy; then, pouring some boiling water over it, he set it
on the hob to steep.

"Denner," he said slowly, "which advice do you want? Whether to do it at
all, or which lady to choose?"

"Which lady, of course," answered Mr. Denner promptly. "There can be but
one opinion as to the first question."

"Ah," responded Mr. Dale; then, a moment afterwards, he added, "Well"--

Mr. Denner looked at his friend, with eyes shining with excitement. "It
is very important to me, Henry," he said, with a faltering voice. "You
will keep that in mind, I am sure. They are both so admirable, and
yet--there must be some choice. Miss Deborah's housekeeping--you know
there's no such cooking in Ashurst; and she's very economical. But then,
Miss Ruth is artistic, and"--here a fine wavering blush crept over his
little face--"she is--ah--pretty, Henry. And the money is equally
divided," he added, with a visible effort to return to practical things.

"I know. Yes, it's very puzzling. On the whole, Denner, I do not see how
I can advise you."

Mr. Denner seemed to suffer a collapse.