"Except me!" Jem Trevelyan was used to this. He had the indescribable power over all who came in contact with him, which causes unlimited confiding. Young as he was, other people were perpetually telling him things which they "had told nobody else." He never knew why: neither did they: but in a tête-à-tête with Jem, secrets were sure to ooze out; and Jem never abused anybody's trust.
"You won't tell Jean!"
"Not a word. You needn't be afraid. I wouldn't advise you to tell Jean either. Many a lady is lost through the gentleman speaking too soon." Jem stated this as seriously as if he had been addressing a full-grown man; and indeed the little fellow's intense seriousness hardly admitted of a joke. "Wait a while."
"How long?"
"Oh, wait—let me see—how old are you?"
"I'm just ten."
"Well, you must wait ten or twelve years at the very least. Perhaps more. Never do to speak sooner."
"Jacob waited fourteen years."
"So he did." Jem mentally contrasted the patriarch with this dainty infant, and had difficulty in keeping his lips straight. "If you have to wait fourteen years, it's nothing. Just bring you to twenty-four."
"And then I'll marry Jean."