"He went and got another girl and took her to the Harvest Dance. Eliza Perkins, and she wore a mahogany-coloured silk that made her look as sallow as a pumpkin. I was so sorry for him that I kinder made it up to him. I suppose girls will always be high and mighty with the boys they like best. I never took the trouble to plague any other of the young men, but your grandfather I used to make life a burden to."
"Nowadays it's the young men that are high and mighty," Ruth Farraday said, "they go into the service, and their uniforms turn their heads, and then they—forget."
"I guess the young men to-day ain't so different from the men in my time, if you come right down to it. I guess liking is liking—just the same as it always was. Love will go where it's sent."
"Do you believe it comes once to every man, as the saying goes?"
"I know it. There's a lot of talk about loving this one and that one, but when you get right down to it, the second time is a pretty poor imitation of the first. There is natures that's different, of course, but true natures find their own and cling to it."
"Oh, I don't know that I like that for a philosophy," Ruth said, "it's all right—if it isn't one-sided, but if only one feels it——"
"It ain't so often one-sided as you think—the real thing ain't. If it ain't real—why, that's another story."
"But how is anybody going to tell if it is real?"
"There ain't really any way of not telling."
"Grandmummy," Peggy begged, "can we dress Ruth up in your pink muslin and take a snapshot of her?"