Wanted — A Matchmaker

by Paul Leicester Ford

“‘Why, Swot,’ cried Constance, ‘nobody is going to kill you’”

 To Bond and Edith Thomas as a Record of Our Friendship 

 

Illustrations

 

Wanted: A Match-Maker

 “You understand, Josie, that I wouldn’t for a moment wish Constance to marry without being in love, but—” 

 Mrs. Durant hesitated long enough to convey the inference that she was unfeminine enough to place a value on her own words, and then, the pause having led to a change, or, at least, modification of what had almost found utterance, she continued, with a touch of petulance which suggested that the general principle had in the mind of the speaker a special application, “It is certainly a great pity that the modern girl should be so unimpressionable!” 

 “I understand and sympathise with you perfectly, dear,” consolingly acceded Mrs. Ferguson. “And Constance has such advantages!” 

 Quite unnoting that her friend replied to her thought rather than to her words, Mrs. Durant responded at once eagerly, yet defensively: “That is it. No one will deny that Muriel is quite Constance’s equal in mind, and, though perhaps I am not the one to say it, Doris surely excels her in looks. Don’t you think so, darling?” she added. 

 “Unquestionably,” agreed the friend, with much the quality of firm promptness with which one would bolt a nauseous pill, or extrude an ailing oyster. 

 “Yet merely because Constance has been out so much longer, and therefore is much more experienced, she self—she monopolises the attentions of the men; you know she does, Josie.” 

 “Absolutely,” once more concurred Mrs. Ferguson; and this time, though she spoke less quickly, her tone carried greater conviction. “They are—well—she—she undoubtedly—that is, she contrives—somehow—to eclipse, or at least overshadow them.” 

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