"I think those boys are really quite nice," Peggy said, as they sat under their favourite tree after supper.
"I think they are," Elizabeth said, "but it was rather mortifying the way they followed us in the first place. They ought to have known better."
"But it only needed a hint from us to make them realize."
"I think boys need those hints. It's the fault of girls if they aren't kept right up to the standard."
"Some of the girls on the Cape are not very particular. They are just out after a good time and don't care how they get it."
"I guess that's mostly just thoughtlessness. Anyhow, these boys haven't been a bit—well—you know—familiar since that first minute."
"No, they haven't one bit. I think Will is quite good fun. Did you notice how he wouldn't sit on the seat with us for fear of crowding us, but just got right down on the floor and stuck his feet out? I think that's the way they really are, and the other was just showing off."
"I think so, too," Elizabeth said. "Anyway, I'm awfully glad we told Grandmother about it. She knew who they were right away, and everything. I wouldn't have known whether I ever ought to speak to them again or not."
"It isn't every grandmother that you could tell a thing like that to," Peggy reflected. "I didn't tell my mother. She just wouldn't have thought it was much account. She trusts me to know the right thing, and that's fine of her when I do know it, but when I don't, it's embarrassing."
"The thing about Grandmother," Elizabeth said, "is that she remembers back so well. She knows what it's like to be a girl, and she thinks all the things that girls think are important. Lots of grown people don't. She imagines right into things, but she doesn't poke around them. She doesn't say much, either, but when you tell her a thing she listens to it."