"I like this paper."
The idea of being in the forest and unrolling his lunch from a napkin: what would Wilson have thought? Elinor, being "nice," always rolled her lunch in a napkin.
"But you will be hungry: let me get you some preserves!"
"Not anything sweet." Elinor always had preserves. He rolled his lunch roughly and thrust it, butcher-stains and all, into his pocket. His mother was exasperated and distressed.
"My son, your lunch will come loose in your pocket: I'll get you a string."
"I don't want a string." Elinor tied everything. Girls tied; boys buttoned. The difference between men and women was strings.
"But you'll get the grease on you, Webster! It will run down your legs!"
"Very well, then, I'll have greasy legs. Why not?"
She followed him out to the porch. Her character lacked capacity of initiative. She waited for him to be old enough to take some initiative; then she would stand by him.
"Don't go too far," she said tenderly, "and you ought to have some of your friends to go with you, some of the boys from school."