nce?

Jane: Of course not.

Martin: No? I wish two was the least number of things I ever think of
at once. Mine's an untidy way of thinking. Still, now we know where we
are. What were you thinking about me so earnestly when I was coughing
and you had forgotten all about me?

Jane: I--I--I wasn't thinking about you at all.

And she got down from the swing and walked away.

Martin: Now we DON'T know where we are.

And he got down from the branch and walked after her.

Martin: Please, Mistress Jane, are you in a temper?

Jane: I am never in a temper.

Martin: Hurrah.

Jane: Being in a temper is silly. It isn't normal. And it clouds
people's judgments.

Martin: So do lots of things, don't they? Like leapfrog, and mad bulls,
and rum punch, and very full moons, and love--

Jane: All these things are, as you say, abnormal. And I have no more
use for them than I have for tempers. But being disheartened isn't
being in a temper; and I am always disheartened when people argue
badly. And above all, men, who, I find, can never keep to the point.
Although they say--

Martin: What do they say?

Jane: That girls can't.

Martin began to cough again, and Jane looked at him closely, and Martin
apologized and said it was that tickle in his throat, and Jane said
gravely, "Do you think I can't see through you? Come along, do!" and
opened her housewife, and put on her thimble, and threaded her needle,
and got out the button, and made Martin stand in a patch of moonlight,
and stood herself in front of him, and took the neck of his shirt
deftly between her left finger and thumb, and began to stitch. And
Martin looking down on the top of her smooth little head, which was all
he could see of her, said anxiously, "You won't prick me, will you?"
and Jane answered, "I'll try not to, but it is very awkward." Because
to get behind the button she had to lean her right elbow on his
shoulder and stand a little on tiptoe. So that Martin had good cause to
be frightened; but after several stitches he realized that he was in
safe hands, and drew a big breath of relief which made Jane look up
rather too hastily, and down more hastily still; so that her hand
shook, and the needle slipped, and Martin said "Ow!" and clutched the
hand with the needle and held it tightly just where it was. And Jane
got flustered and said, "I'm so sorry."

Martin: Why should you be? You've proved your point. If I knew any man
that could stick to his so well an