thirty-six and forty. They talked awfully well, in a firm, clear
way, about civics, and classes, and politics, and economics, and
boards. They rather terrified Jo. He didn't understand much
that they talked about, and he felt humbly inferior, and yet a
little resentful, as if something had passed him by. He escorted
them home, dutifully, though they told him not to bother, and
they evidently meant it. They seemed capable not only of going
home quite unattended but of delivering a pointed lecture to any
highwayman or brawler who might molest them.

The following Thursday Eva would say, "How did you like her,
Jo?"

"Like who?" Joe would spar feebly.

"Miss Matthews."

"Who's she?"

"Now, don't be funny, Jo. You know very well I mean the girl who
was here for dinner. The one who talked so well on the
emigration question."

"Oh, her! Why, I liked her all right. Seems to be a smart
woman."

"Smart! She's a perfectly splendid girl."

"Sure," Jo would agree cheerfully.