"I have a sort of thermometer in my mind, just like the big thermometer in the hall; and I measure how much I like people by that."
"How much do you like your Cousin Anne?" he asked.
"Ninety-six degrees," replied Elisabeth promptly.
"And your Cousin Maria?"
"Sixty."
"And Mrs. Bateson?"
"Fifty-four." Elisabeth always knew her own mind.
"I say, how—how—how much do you like me?" asked Christopher, with some hesitation.
"Sixty-two," answered Elisabeth, with no hesitation at all.
And Christopher felt a funny, cold feeling round his loyal heart. He grew to know the feeling well in after years, and to wonder how Elisabeth could understand so much and yet understand so little; but at present he was too young to understand himself.