Bother the girl! Beatie, she’s jealous of you!
Beatie.
A parlour-maid jealous of me—and with a bit of a child of fourteen!
Cis.
I may be only fourteen, but I feel like a grown-up man! You’re only sixteen—there’s not much difference—and if you will only wait for me, I’ll soon catch you up and be as much a man as you are a woman. Will you wait for me, Beatie?
Beatie.
I can’t—I’m getting older every minute!
Cis.
Oh, I wish I could borrow five or six years from somebody!