Metaneira accepted with pleasure the compliments for her son.
After all, she herself was sure they were true.
"No, he is his Father's image. His Father was very handsome.
Very handsome." She was silent for a moment, remembering.
"So long ago! Theresa, do you like Demo? I think it would be well for him to find a good woman, to settle down." She looked searchingly into the girl's eyes.
Theresa blushed, looked down, then looked at her.
"I've always liked him. Still, at times he is so young and childish. He seldom glances at me, or even at any of the girls. The other boys chase us madly. I could have my choice, you know!" Her voice suggested that she expected doubt.
"You stay for supper, dear. My, I like the way you are dressed.
Come here, there are a few changes needed. Trust me."
She examined the girl carefully. "Turn around, my dear, slowly. Hmmm, can we tighten it ever so slightly here?" She adjusted the girl's waistband.
"And it is so warm. Why not leave this just a bit more open to the air - that much. No, a little more yet." She loosed Theresa's bodice slightly, then a bit more, suggesting rather than exposing the smooth rise of her breasts.
Theresa, red-faced, looked searchingly at her, then giggled.
"We're terrible, aren't we. It isn't our fault, since a young man is so insensitive. Sometimes you must be very forward to wake them up. Besides, I know he likes you. He's just very shy, and he truly knows nothing about real life. My, my, I shouldn't be talking like this. After all, I am his mother. Don't you feel like a conspirator?"