“Not more? well, there’s an old proverb, which I will not repeat.”
“I know it, so you may save yourself the trouble, you saucy boy; but now, for your age?”
“Mine! let me see; well, I believe that I am nearly seventeen.”
“Are you really so old? well, now, I should have thought you no more than fourteen.”
This answer at first surprised me, as I was very stout and tall for my age; but a moment’s reflection told me that it was given to annoy me. A lad is as much vexed at being supposed younger than he really is as a man of a certain age is annoyed at being taken for so much older. “Pooh!” replied I; “that shows how little you know about men.”
“I wasn’t talking about men, that I know of; but still, I do know something about them. I’ve had two sweethearts already.”
“Indeed! and what have you done with them?”
“Done with them! I jilted the first for the second, because the second was better looking; and when Mr Turnbull told me so much about you, I jilted the second to make room for you: but now I mean to try if I can’t get him back again.”
“With all my heart,” replied I laughing. “I shall prove but a sorry sweetheart, for I have never made love in my life.”
“Have you ever had anybody to make love to?”