"Terence," she said, lessoning him with her bony, long forefinger,
"you're just young enough to be wise about women. When you're a little
older, you'll get sense. If you want white hands and good grammar, how do
you expect to find a wife in the mountains?"

Terry answered with unshaken, lordly calm. "I haven't thought about the
details. They don't matter. But a man must have standards of criticism."

"Standards your foot!" cried Aunt Elizabeth. "You insufferable young
prig. That very girl laughing down through the branches--I'll wager she
could set your head spinning in ten seconds if she thought it worth her
while to try."

"Perhaps," smiled Terence. "In the meantime she has freckles and a
vocabulary without growing pains."

"All men are fools," declared Aunt Elizabeth; "but boys are idiots, bless
'em! Terence, before you grow up you'll have sore toes from stumbling,
take my word for it! Do you know what a wise man would do?"

"Well?"

"Go out and start a terrific flirtation with Nelly."

"For the sake of experience?" sighed Terence.

"Good heavens!" groaned Aunt Elizabeth. "Terry, you're impossible! Where
are you going now?"