“She couldn’t keep so, you know, in this climate.”
Blythe did not heed the interruption. “She must be rather tall, not too plump, with blue eyes that look right at you and do not droop or languish but are honest and fearless. She must have hair the color of ripe corn husks, a tinge of yellow in it. She must have courage and daring without being bold. She must be gentle yet not too meek; amiable, yet able to stand up for the right. She must have womanly tastes yet be ready to ride a horse, hit a mark and rope in a calf as well as she can cook a meal and sew a seam. She must not be ignorant of books, like too many of the women one meets about here, and she must have a care to the neatness of her dress, something also often overlooked by our good neighbors.”
“Dear me, I shall write that all down as soon as I get home,” said Alison. “You certainly require a paragon. I don’t know where you will find her.”
“I know only one who answers to my description.”
“Oh, you do know one?”
“Yes, and she is not a mile away, but is as hard to approach as a star.”
“My, but you are poetical. I wonder you left such an intellectual spot as New York for these wilds.”
“I came because my father did, and now he is gone I stay because my mother and sister do so. Since my eldest sister has married here it seems as if we may as well remain, for there is always a future for an enterprising young man in a new country. When I am judge you will see how well I have done for myself.”
“That seems a great many years to look ahead when one is not yet of age,” remarked Alison. “I am afraid you will get discouraged long before that.”
“Not if I have the proper incentive, if the girl I want will encourage me. Tell me now what you admire in a man.”