Not but what I can do it, all right. I have heaps of brains.”
“Oh!” said Priscilla vaguely.
“Yes. But it’s such hard work to use them. And B.A.’s are such learned, dignified, wise, solemn creatures—they must be. No, I didn’t want to come to Redmond. I did it just to oblige father. He IS such a duck. Besides, I knew if I stayed home I’d have to get married. Mother wanted that—wanted it decidedly. Mother has plenty of decision. But I really hated the thought of being married for a few years yet. I want to have heaps of fun before I settle down. And, ridiculous as the idea of my being a B.A. is, the idea of my being an old married woman is still more absurd, isn’t it? I’m only eighteen. No, I concluded I would rather come to Redmond than be married. Besides, how could I ever have made up my mind which man to marry?”
“Were there so many?” laughed Anne.
“Heaps. The boys like me awfully—they really do. But there were only two that mattered. The rest were all too young and too poor. I must marry a rich man, you know.”
“Why must you?”
“Honey, you couldn’t imagine me being a poor man’s wife, could you? I can’t do a single useful thing, and I am very extravagant. Oh, no, my husband must have heaps of money. So that narrowed them down to two. But I couldn’t decide between two any easier than between two hundred. I knew per-
