g woman, thirty-one, good housekeeper, desires
acquaintance respectable middle-aged gentleman. Object, matrimony.
Address K. D. B., this office.'--Hum!" he commented, "nothing equivocal
about K. D. B.; has the heroism to call herself young at thirty-one.
I'll bet she IS a good housekeeper. Right to the point. If K. D. B.
don't see what she wants, she asks for it."

"I wonder," mused Blix, "what kind of people they are who put personals
in the papers. K. D. B., for instance; who is she, and what is she
like?"

"They're not tough," Condy assured her. "I see 'em often down at 'The
Times' office. They are usually a plain, matter-of-fact sort, quite
conscientious, you know; generally middle-aged--or thirty-one; outgrown
their youthful follies and illusions, and want to settle down."

"Read some more," urged Blix. Condy went on.

"'Bachelor, good habits, twenty-five, affectionate disposition,
accomplishments, money, desires acquaintance pretty, refined girl.
Object, matrimony. McB., this office.'"

"No, I don't like McB.," said Blix. "He's too--ornamental, somehow."

"He wouldn't do for K. D. B., would he?"

"Oh, my, no! He'd make her very unhappy."

"'Widower, two children, home-loving disposition, desires introduction
to good, honest woman to make home for his children. Matrimony, if
suitable. B. P. T., Box A, this office.'"

"He's not for K. D. B., that's flat," declared Blix; "the idea,
'matrimony if suitable'--patronizing enough! I know just what kind of
an old man B. P. T. is. I know he would want K. D. B. to warm his
slippers, and would be fretful and grumpy. B. P. T., just an
abbreviation of bumptious. No, he can't have her."

Condy read the next two or three to himself, despite her protests.

"Condy, don't be mean! Read them to--"

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "here's one for K. D. B. Behold, the bridegroom
cometh! Listen."

"'Bachelor, thirty-nine, sober and industrious, retired sea captain,
desires acquaintance respectable young woman, good housekeeper and
manager. Object, matrimony. Address Captain Jack, office this paper."

"I know he's got a wooden leg!" cried Blix. "Can't you just see it
sticking out between the lines? And he lives all alone somewhere down
near the bay with a parrot--"

"And makes a glass of grog every night."

"And smokes a long clay pipe."

"But he chews tobacco."

"Yes, isn't it a pity he will chew that nasty, smelly tobacco? But K.
D. B. will break him of tha