After breakfast the two young women, with much preparation of boots, veils and wraps, went off with Strong and Wharton for a stroll down to the banks of the river.  The two older members of the party remained quietly in their parlor, thinking that the young people would get on better by themselves.  As the four wandered down the road, Mr. Murray watched them, and noticed the natural way in which Esther joined Strong, while Catherine fell to Wharton.  Standing with his hands in his trousers’ pockets and his nose close to the window-pane, Mr. Murray looked after them as they disappeared down the bank, and then, without turning round, he made a remark as husbands do, addressed to the universe and intended for his wife.

“I suppose that is what you are driving at.”

“What?” asked Mrs. Murray.

“I don’t mind George and Esther, but I grudge Catherine to that man Wharton.  He may be a good artist, but I think his merits as a husband beneath criticism.  I believe every woman would connive at a love affair though the man had half a dozen living wives, and had been hung two or three times for murder.”

“I wish Esther were as safe as I think Catherine,” said Mrs. Murray.  “It would surprise me very much if Catherine took Mr. Wharton now, but if Mr. Hazard were to walk round the corner, I should expect to see Esther run straight into his arms.”

“Hazard!” exclaimed Mr. Murray.  “I thought he was out of the running and you meant Esther for George.”

“I am not a match-maker, and I’ve no idea that Esther will ever marry George,” replied Mrs. Murray with the patience which wives sometimes show to husbands whom they think obtuse.

“Then what is it you want?” asked Mr. Murray, with some signs of rebellion, but still talking to the window-pane, with his hands in his pockets.  “You encourage a set of clever men to hang round two pretty girls, and you profess at the same time not to want anything to come of it.  That kind of conduct strikes an ordinary mind as inconsistent.”

“I want to prevent one unhappy marriage, not to make two,” replied his wife.  “Girls must have an education, and the only way they can get a good one is from clever men.  As for falling in love, they will always do that whether the men are clever or not.  They must take the risk.”

“And what do you mean to do with them when they are educated?” inquired he.

“I mean them to marry dull, steady men in Wall Street, without any manners, and with their hands in their pockets,” answered Mrs. Murray, her severity for once mingled with a touch of sweetness.

“Thank you,” replied her husband, at last turning round.  “Then that is to be the fruit of all this to-do?”

“I am sure it is quite fruit enough,” rejoined she.  “The business of educating their husbands will take all the rest of their lives.”