"Not I! And, do you know?
I believe I shall turn matchmaker yet, and find you a man; and the chiefest of his qualifications shall be that he's wretchedly hard on his hose, and that he adores puddings." "No, no, Miss Billy, don't, please!" begged the other, in quick terror.
"Forget all I said the other day; please do! Don't tell--anybody!" She was so obviously distressed and frightened that Billy was puzzled.
"There, there, 'twas only a jest, of course," she soothed her.

"But, really Marie, it is the dear, domestic little mouse like yourself that ought to be somebody's wife--and that's the kind men are looking for, too." Marie gave a slow shake of her head.
"Not the kind of man that is somebody, that does something," she objected; "and that's the only kind I could--love.

HE wants a wife that is beautiful and clever, that can do things like himself--LIKE HIMSELF!" she iterated feverishly.
Billy opened wide her eyes.
"Why, Marie, one would think--you already knew--such a man," she cried.
The little music teacher changed her position, and turned her eyes away.
"I do, of course," she retorted in a merry voice, "lots of them.

Don't you?
Come, we've discussed my matrimonial prospects quite long enough," she went on lightly.

"You know we started with yours.