like horses," declared the widow, "if you know how to
handle them, and are gentle and kind----"

"And let them see you're master----"

"And don't jab them with spiteful little spurs----"

"And know when to pull on the curb----"

"And when to coax them with sugar----"

"And when to beat 'em--and even then you can't tell what they're going
to shy at or balk at any more than you can tell when an automobile is
going to break down or run away or blow up. But this 'model'--is she
pretty and fetching and warranted to run smoothly over rough roads and
to climb all the matrimonial hills and not puncture a tire in the
finances and to be just as good for a long run as for a spurt? Is she
smart looking and substantial and----"

The widow sat up so quickly that the canoe swayed unsteadily beneath
them.

"She's not a harem, Mr. Travers!" she cried. "Oh, dear!" she sighed
hopelessly, leaning back again, "why is it that every man expects to get
a harem of virtues combined in one wife? I don't believe any man but
Solomon was ever perfectly satisfied with domestic life."

"Solomon," remarked the bachelor, giving the paddle an emphatic shove,
"understood the necessity for variety in wives. But if Solomon had lived
in the twentieth century he wouldn't have needed so many--er--annexations.
He would have got it all in one modern woman.
Now, you, for instance----"

"Speaking impersonally," interrupted the widow, trying to look austere
and at the same time to blow a chiffon veil out of her mouth, "when a
man buys an automobile he selects a runabout or a victoria or a touring
car or a racing machine, according to his needs, and is satisfied."

"Not at all," protested the bachelor. "The moment he has one automobile
he is sighing for another, and he is never happy until he has a garage
full----"

"And it is the same about a coat or a hat," persisted the widow,
ignoring the interruption; "he picks out what suits him best; but he
doesn't expect his top hat to do him for picnics nor his swallow-tail
to serve for lawn tennis nor his yachting cap to look well in church
nor----"

"A derby," interrupted the bachelor, "will do almost anywhere."

"They're hideous, Mr. Travers! and stiff and commonplace and
uncomfortable and----"

"Are they anything like the model wife you've picked out for me?"
inquired the bachelor insinuatingly.

The widow flushed under the corner of her chiffon veil.

"Well," she acquiesced unwillingly, "she isn't