iss
Kingsley, brought about primarily by my inquiring her age.

"How old? Lucretia Kingsley will never see thirty again, no matter how
hard she tries to look younger. She's a fine-appearing girl though, and
a stylish dresser. She makes a pretty penny, I understand, out of the
work she does for the newspapers. Folks say,"--here she lowered
her voice; and let it be added at the same time that I felt some
compunctions at her not continuing to use the economic system, but in my
interest to learn her secret I was weak enough to let her go on,--"folks
say that she and Mr. Spence will hit it off together some day. I guess
she's thrifty, too, when she's not at her books. Did you notice how
worked up he was when your three millions were spoken of? I could see
he'd taken a fancy to you, but when that came out he had to drop you
like a hot cake."

"What do you mean?" I asked, too much astonished to be upset by her
colloquial style.

"It's the only part of his philosophy that I don't altogether take to,
for it doesn't seem quite natural to me to turn one's back on what
Heaven sends in the way of income. I'm an out-and-out convert to his
doctrines into the bargain. I used to believe in having a good time, and
all that sort of nonsense; but I've come to see that what he calls
equipoise is the true road to happiness, and that it's best to leave off
a bit hungry if you want to live to a green old age. I suppose you've
heard his lecture on 'Overeating and Undereating'? If you haven't, don't
fail to go the next time he delivers it. There's more good sound
medicine in two sentences of that than in all the apothecary shops in
creation. I went to hear him by accident too, for I'm not partial to
lectures as a rule. I had the dyspepsia bad, and had spent more money on
physic and the doctors than it would take to support Mr. Spence for the
rest of his born days. They all wanted one of two things,--either that I
should stuff myself or starve myself. One was for having me eat every
five minutes, and the next made me weigh everything that went into my
stomach. But Mr. Spence took the bull by the horns when he said, 'Some
people eat too much, and some eat too little. Preserve a happy medium!'
And that's what I've been doing ever since, and the consequence is I
could eat nails if I was pressed hard."

"But eating is quite a different thing from income," she continued,
relieving at last my impatience; "and I can't see the sense of his idea
that