"Oh, Master Pippin," said Jane earnestly, "since I turned seventeen I have seen into people's motives so clearly that I often wish I did not; but I cannot help it." Martin: You poor darling! Jane: You must not say that word to me, Master Pippin. Martin: It was very wrong of me. The word slipped out by mistake. I meant to say clever, not poor. Jane: Did you? I see. Oh, but-- Martin: Please don't be modest. We must always stand by the truth, don't you think? Jane: Above all things. Martin: How long did it take you to discover my paltry ruse? How long did you hear me coughing? Jane: From the very beginning. Martin: And can you think of two things at once? 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.