“Oh, Martha, Martha, dear! Tell me all about him. Why didn’t you let us know? I came near having on my old blue gingham. What if I had? He’s awfully nice 112 looking. Is he in love with you? Tell me all about it. Does he make love to you? Oh, Martha! It’s so romantic for you to have a lover!”
“Hush, Betty, some one will hear you. Of course he doesn’t make love to me!”
“Why?”
“I wouldn’t let him.”
“Martha! Why not? Do you think it’s bad to let a young man make love to you?”
“Betty! You mustn’t talk so loud. Everything sounds so through this house. It would mortify me to death.”
“What would mortify you to death: to have him make love to you or to have someone hear me?”
“Betty, dear!”
“Well, tell me all about him––please! Why did he come out with you?”
“You shouldn’t always be thinking about love-making––and––such things, Betty, dear. He just came out in the most natural way, just because he––he loves the country, and he was talking to me about it one day and said he’d like to come out some Friday with me––just about asked me to invite him. So when father called at the school yesterday for me, I introduced them, and he said the same thing to father, and of course father invited him over again, and––and––so he’s here. That’s all there is to it.”