r stay an old maid all my life."

"Oh, I dare say there are others. You may possibly have another chance
at matrimony."

"Nan," and Patty turned suddenly grave, "I don't like that--a chance at
matrimony. I mean, if one gets engaged, it ought to be to a man she
loves so much that she doesn't think of it as a 'chance.' It ought to
be the one and only."

"Why, that's just what I'm trying to say, dear. Now, is Phil the one
and only?"

"No, ma'am. Not by no manner of means, he isn't. Nixie, he is not!"

"That mass of negatives sounds rather conclusive to me. So, with that
as a premise, I'm going to advise you, even urge you to tell him so
with unmistakable definiteness."

"But, Nan, it makes him feel so bad."

"That is the trouble, Patty. Every true woman hates to disappoint the
man who truly loves her. And Phil adores you. His love is deep and
sincere. He would make you very happy--if you loved him. If not, it
would only mean unhappiness for you both. And, so, it is really kinder
to him to tell him so frankly and let him give up any false hopes."

"I know it, and I'm going to do it. But I don't know just how. You
see, Nan, he is so persistent,--and in such a nice, kind way. When I
tell him that, he'll only say that he won't consider it final, and
we'll wait and see. Then the argument begins all over again."

"And so, I tell you, at the risk of repeating myself, that you must
make up your own mind positively first; then, if an adverse decision,
you must tell him, so positively that he can't misunderstand. _Then_,
if he refuses to give up all hope, it isn't your fault."

"That's good, sound talk, Nan, and I will try to do just as you say.
But--well, here's the thing in a nutshell. I like Phil so much that I
hate to tell him I can't love him."

"Then get that out of the nutshell, and put this in. If you like him
so much, it's your duty to tell him you can't love him. Heavens,
Patty, have you no idea of other people's rights?"

"I don't believe I have, Nan. I'm a spoiled child, I admit it. You
and Dad spoil me, and all my friends do, too. I'm made to believe that
the sun rises and sets in silly little Patty Fairfield, and it has made
me a vain, conceited, selfish, insufferable _Pig_! That's what it has
done!"

"Oh, Patty, you little idiot! Nothing of the sort. You're,--since you
doubtless meant to be contradicted,--you're a dear thing, and there
isn't a selfish bone in your body. If p