Everything in her is simple, and she says just what she thinks, and laughs merely when she feels inclined.

Such a damsel might be made into anything--or she might be turned into worthless rubbish.

The latter, I surmise, for trudging after her she will have a fond mother and a bevy of aunts, and so forth--persons who, within a year, will have filled her with womanishness to the point where her own father wouldn't know her.

And to that there will be added pride and affectation, and she will begin to observe established rules, and to rack her brains as to how, and how much, she ought to talk, and to whom, and where, and so forth.

Every moment will see her growing timorous and confused lest she be saying too much.