"And he said we should presently elope."
"Oh! time enough to be wed come three years or more," commented Betty.
"Oh! but you would not have me allow a gentleman to take my hand, and kiss me, and call me his dearest life without being married immediately. It would be most unbecoming."
"If all the world knew, 'twould, but then nobody don't know, and that's the best way for all true lovers."
"Nevertheless, Betty, I feel uneasy."
"'Tis only the stirring of your blood, my dear. Only to think," went on the confidante, "that last sweet Spring time you was building great cowslip balls in the green meadows, and now you are quite grown up with a bow of your own to arm you through the minivets and gawottes, so grand as may be."
"Yes, love makes one grow old, Betty. I've aged very much these weeks."
"Well, and 'twouldn't be right otherwise, for Life bean't all a long sweet April month, my pretty one."
"Then truly, dear Betty, you swear you think there is no harm in what I have done?"
"Oh, my dear, harm? Why, what harm could there be with your great fat Betty to watch and guard 'ee?"