“Oh, I am different,” said Olive; “I am a navy girl, and more like a man.  I have to look out for myself.  I think it is time I was married, and therefore I am giving the subject attention.  Don’t you think that is prudent?”

“And you say you have no particular leanings?” the other inquired.

“None whatever,” said Olive.  “Mr. Locker proposed to me less than an hour ago, but I gave him no answer.  He is too precipitate, and he is only one person, anyway.”

“You don’t want to marry more than one person!” exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield.

“No,” said Olive, “but I want more than one to choose from.”

Mrs. Easterfield did not understand the girl at all.  But this was not to be expected so soon; she must wait a little, and find out more.  Notwithstanding her apparent indifference to Claude Locker, there was more danger in that direction than Mrs. Easterfield had supposed.  A really persistent lover is often very dangerous, no matter how indifferent a young woman may be.

“Have you been considering the professor?” she asked, with a smile.  “I noticed that you were very gracious to him yesterday.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Olive.  “But I suppose I might as well.  I did try to make him have a good time, but I was still a little provoked and felt that I would like him to go back to my uncle and tell him that he had enjoyed himself.  But now I suppose I must consider all the eligibles.”

“Why now?” asked Mrs. Easterfield quickly; “why now more than any previous time?”

Olive did not immediately answer, but presently she said:  “I am not going back to my uncle.  There was a woman here just now—­I don’t know whether she was sent or not—­who informed me that he did not expect me to return to his house.  When my mother was living we were great companions for each other, but now you see I am left entirely alone.  It will be a good while before father comes back, and then I don’t know whether he can settle down or not.  Besides, I am not very well acquainted with him, but I suppose that would arrange itself in time.  So you see all I can do is to visit about until I am married, and therefore the sooner I am married and settled the better.”

“Perhaps this is a cold-blooded girl!” said Mrs. Easterfield to herself.  “But perhaps it is not!” Then, speaking aloud, she said:  “Olive Asher, were you ever in love?”

The girl looked at her with reflective eyes.  “Yes,” she said.  “I was once, but that was the only time.”

“Would you mind telling me about it?” asked Mrs. Easterfield.

“Not at all,” replied the girl.  “I was between thirteen and fourteen, and wore short dresses, and my hair was plaited.  My father was on duty at the Philadelphia Navy-Yard, and we lived in that city.  There was a young man who used to come to bring messages to father; I think he was a clerk or a draftsman.  I do not remember his name, except that his first name was Rupert, and father