"Oh, Amanda, that's not fair, not like you!" But he thought ruefully of Isabel and her butterfly attractions. "I admit we follow the butterflies but sometimes we wake up and see our folly. True, men don't chase honeybees, but they have a wholesome respect for them and build houses for them. After all, the real men generally appreciate the real women. Sometimes the appreciation comes too late for happiness, but it seldom fails to come. No matter how appearances belie it, it's a fact, nevertheless, that in this crazy world of to-day the sincere, real girl is still appreciated. The frilly Gladys, Gwendolyns and What-nots still have to yield first place to the old-fashioned Rebeccas, Marys and Amandas." Her heart thumped at the words. She became flustered and said the first thing that came into her head to say, "I like that, calling me old- fashioned! But we won't quarrel about it. Let's eat our lunch; that will keep us from too much talking for a while." Martin handed her the box. He was silent as she opened it. She noted his preoccupation, his gray eyes looking off to the distant fields. "Come back to earth!" she ordered. "What are you dreaming about?" "I was just thinking that you _are_ old-fashioned. I'm glad you are." "Well, I'm not!" she retorted. "Come on, eat. I just threw in some rolls and cold chicken and pickles and a few peaches." The man turned and gave his attention to the lunch and ate with evident enjoyment, but several times Amanda felt his keen eyes scrutinizing her face. "What ails him?" she thought. "This is great, this is just the thing!" he told her several times during the time of lunch. "Let's do this often, come up here where the air is pure." "All right," she agreed readily. "It will do you good to get up in the hills. I don't see how you stand being housed in a city in the summer! It must be like those awful days in the early spring or in the fall when I'm in the schoolroom and rebel because I want to be outdoors. I rebel every minute when the weather is nice, do it subconsciously while I'm teaching the states and capitals or hearing tables or giving out spelling words. Something just keeps saying inside of me, 'I want to be out, want to be out, be out, be out!' It's a wonder I don't say it out loud sometimes." "If you did you'd hear a mighty echo, I bet! Every kid in the room would say it after you." "Yes, I'm sure of that. I feel like a slave driver when I make them study on days that were made for the open. But it's the only way, I suppose. We have to learn to knuckle very early." "Yes, but it's a great old world, just the same, don't you think so?" "It's the only one I ever tried, so I'm satisfied to stay on it a while longer," she told him. They laughed at that as only Youth can laugh at remarks that are not clever, only interesting to each other because of the personality of the speaker.