Is he well? What does he do?"
Theresa paused for a moment, adding "Has he a girl friend?"
Metaneira smiled.
"I'm glad you came. Here, let me get some sweetmeats and
drinks. I don't have company often. Girl friend? No, I think
not. He's too wild! What girl would want him! He fishes and
hunts and disappears into the forest for days at a time. Ah, the
poor girl who gets him for a husband!"
Theresa sat demurely on the proffered chair. Rough lay down
beside her, comfortable that she was no threat to him, or to the
family he protected.
"Oh, I think he is a fine boy. How old is he now? He seems so
big and strong. And he's handsome. He looks much like his
mother."
Metaneira accepted with pleasure the compliments for her son.
After all, she herself was sure they were true.
"No, he is his Father's image. His Father was very handsome.
Very handsome." She was silent for a moment, remembering.
"So long ago! Theresa, do you like Demo? I think it would be
well for him to find a good woman, to settle down." She looked
searchingly into the girl's eyes.
Theresa blushed, looked down, then looked at her.
"I've always liked him. Still, at times he is so young and
childish. He seldom glances at me, or even at any of the girls.
The other boys chase us madly. I could have my choice, you
know!" Her voice suggested that she expected doubt.
"You stay for supper, dear. My, I like the way you are dressed.
Come here, there are a few changes needed.
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