"What for?" said Rob: "I don't see any shame. Where's the shame?"
"Shame to think about something to eat when you go to see people," replied Nelly.
"Now, Nell March, didn't you think of it, honest Indian?" said Rob.
"Well, it's worse to say it," stammered Nelly. "Perhaps I did think of it, just a little, little bit; but I always try not to."
"Ha! ha! Miss Nell! I've caught you this time; and I don't think it's a bit worse to say it: so, there! Stewed chicken! stewed chicken!" And Rob danced along in front of Nelly, shouting the words in her very face. Nelly could not help laughing, though she was angry.
"Rob," she said, "you can be the worst torment I ever saw."
"That's only because you haven't had any other torment but me," cried Rob, still dancing along backwards in front of Nelly.
"Hullo! hullo!" said a loud, gruff voice just behind him: "don't run me down, young man! Which side of the way will you have, or will you have both?"
Very much confused, Rob turned and found himself nearly in the arms of an old man with rough clothes on, but with such a nice, benevolent face that Rob knew he was not going to be angry with him.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "I didn't see you."