“They don't tell nothin' but truth, anyhow!” says the girl; “that's why some people don't like them! If I have anything on my mind, it must come out. I am a country-bred girl, I am—with my heart in my mouth—all honesty and simplicity; not like your English girls, who have learned I don't know what at their boarding-schools, and from the men afterwards.”
“Our girls are monstrous little hypocrites, indeed!” cries George.
“You are thinking of Miss Lamberts? and I might have thought of them; but I declare I did not then. They have been at boarding-school; they have been in the world a great deal—so much the greater pity for them, for be certain they learned no good there. And now I have said so, of course you will go and tell Miss Theo, won't you, sir?”
“That she has learned no good in the world? She has scarce spoken to men at all, except her father, her brother, and me. Which of us would teach her any wrong, think you?”
“Oh, not you! Though I can understand its being very dangerous to be with you!” says the girl, with a sigh.
“Indeed there is no danger, and I don't bite!” says George, laughing.
“I didn't say bite,” says the girl, softly. “There's other things dangerous besides biting, I should think. Aren't you very witty? Yes, and sarcastic, and clever, and always laughing at people? Haven't you a coaxing tongue? If you was to look at me in that kind of way, I don't know what would come to me. Was your brother like you, as I was to have married? Was he as clever and witty as you? I have heard he was like you: but he hadn't your coaxing tongue. Heigho! 'Tis well you are engaged, Master George, that is all. Do you think if you had seen me first, you would have liked Miss Theo best?”
“They say marriages were made in Heaven, my dear, and let us trust that mine has been arranged there,” says George.
“I suppose there was no such thing never known, as a man having two sweethearts?” asks the artless little maiden. “Guess it's a pity. O me! What nonsense I'm a-talking; there now! I'm like the little girl who cried for the moon; and I can't have it. 'Tis too high for me—too high and splendid and shining: can't reach up to it nohow. Well, what a foolish, wayward, little spoilt thing I am now! But one thing you promise.-on your word and your honour, now, Mr. George?”
“And what is that?”