“You ought to be more levelheaded, Philippa.”
“It’s best to be levelheaded, of course,” agreed Philippa, “but you miss lots of fun. As for Alec and Alonzo, if you knew them you’d understand why it’s difficult to choose between them. They’re equally nice.”
“Then take somebody who is nicer” suggested Aunt Jamesina. “There’s that Senior who is so devoted to you—Will Leslie. He has such nice, large, mild eyes.”
“They’re a little bit too large and too mild—like a cow’s,” said Phil cruelly.
“What do you say about George Parker?”
“There’s nothing to say about him except that he always looks as if he had just been starched and ironed.”
“Marr Holworthy then. You can’t find a fault with him.”
“No, he would do if he wasn’t poor. I must marry a rich man, Aunt Jamesina. That—and good looks—is an indispensable qualification. I’d marry Gilbert Blythe if he were rich.”
“Oh, would you?” said Anne, rather viciously.
“We don’t like that idea a little bit, although we don’t want Gilbert ourselves, oh, no,” mocked Phil. “But don’t let’s talk of disagreeable subjects. I’ll have to marry sometime, I suppose, but I shall put off the evil day as long as I can.”
“You mustn’t marry anybody you don’t love, Phil, when all’s said and done,” said Aunt Jamesina.
