When Marcia came back, he was primed and ready to begin his declaration.
"Weather's been fine, ain't it?" he started out.
"Do you think so?" questioned she, raising her brows. "Seems to me we've had lots of rain and fog."
"Wal, yes, now you mention it I do recall a few thick days. Still, spring is comin'."
"I'd like to shingle the south ell this spring," announced Marcia, giving a disconcertingly practical twist to the conversation. "How many shingles do you suppose it would take?"
The dialogue was not proceeding along the lines he had mapped out.
Determined to fetter it and bring it back into the prescribed channels, he answered:
"I'd have to reckon that out. It's a good notion, though, to make the ell tight. That's what the birds are doin'."
Astonished, Marcia glanced up from her work.
"I mean," floundered on Eleazer, "they're gettin' their nests built an' kinder pickin' out their mates. Pickin' the right mate's quite a job for some folks."
He saw Marcia turn scarlet. Mercy! What a slip! She thought he was twitting her about Jason.
"What I set out to say was that when you get the wrong mate you know it," he countered hastily.
No sooner, however, were the words out of his mouth than he saw they were no better.
Perhaps it would be well to abandon the mating question and start on a new tack. He had tried the spring. Suppose he took summer as his theme?
"Summer's a nice season, ain't it?" ventured he.
"Yes, although I never enjoy it as much as the other months. I don't like the heat and I detest the summer boarders."
Eleazer swallowed hard. He would better have clung to the spring. He saw that now. He would retrace his steps.
"Spring is nice," he agreed. "With the birds a-buildin' their nests, an'--"
"I did not realize you were so much interested in birds, Eleazer," Marcia exclaimed. "I have a fine bird book I must lend you. It's in the other room. I'll fetch it."
"Drat it!" murmured Eleazer. "Could anything be more exasperatin'? An' me neither knowin' nor carin' a hang whether a bird's a robin or a sparrow. Just when I was gettin' the way paved so nice, too." He wandered to the window. "Oh, heavens, who's this comin'? If it ain't 'Lish Winslow! Now what in thunder does he want, buttin' in? He's walkin' like as if the evil one was at his heels."