"But they don't," Nelson said. "That's the trouble with 'em; they don't think."
At this she appealed to him, as to a superior wisdom. "Why is it, Nelson? I've wondered so much about that. You're a man, and you ought to be able to tell me. Why is it they don't think?"
"Well, I suppose it's prob'ly because they won't take the trouble to. Either that, or maybe because they simply don't know how."
"I believe you're right," she returned, and she gave him a quick little glance of deferential appreciation. "I think that's rather a wonderful idea, Nelson. Only a person that does think could work out an explanation like that."
Nelson's colour heightened, he was so pleased to believe her kind opinion of him warranted. It seemed to him that this was a beautiful walk he was taking in delicious air and sunshine with a companion who understood with him the deeper things of life, the things that he really cared for. "The way I look at it is simply this," he said. "The trouble with most people is they don't even realize there is such a thing as thinking. So—well, when you get with a person that does think, well, you get a kick out of it."
