“He's frivolous, and he's very light-minded; but he's none the worse for that.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Dan; and Alice, still puzzled, laughed provisionally.
“No; I want you to understand that. He's light-hearted too, and that's a great thing in this world. If you're serious you'll be apt to be heavyhearted, and then you'll find Dan of use. And I hope he'll know how, to turn your seriousness to account too, he needs something to keep him down—to keep him from blowing away. Yes, it's very well for people to be opposites. Only they must understand each other, If they do that, then they get along. Light-heartedness or heavy-heartedness comes to the same thing if they know how to use it for each other. You see, I've got to be a great philosopher lying here; nobody dares contradict me or interrupt me when I'm constructing my theories, and so I get them perfect.”
“I wish I could hear them all,” said Alice, with sincerity that made Mrs. Mavering laugh as light-heartedly as Dan himself, and that seemed to suggest the nest thing to her.
“You can for the asking, almost any time. Are you a very truthful person, my dear? Don't take the trouble to deny it if you are,” she added, at Alice's stare. “You see, I'm not at all conventional and you needn't be. Come! tell the truth for once, at any rate. Are you habitually truthful?”
“Yes, I think I am,” said Alice, still staring.
“Dan's not,” said his mother quietly.
“Oh, see here, now, mother! Don't give me away!”
“He'll tell the truth in extremity, of course, and he'll tell it if it's pleasant, always; but if you don't expect much more of him you won't be disappointed; and you can make him of great use.”
“You see where I got it, anyway, Alice,” said Dan, laughing across the bed at her.