"Oh, my! I guess I do!" said Rob. "Wasn't it horrid! I'd as lief die as be like that again. I haven't been sick once since we came to Colorado: have I, Nell?"
"No," said Nelly. "Don't you remember you used to say I ought to be sick half the time: it wasn't fair for me not to be sick any and for you to be sick all the time?"
"Did I?" said Rob: "that was real mean of me. I wouldn't say so now."
While they were talking, they suddenly saw the nurse come out again, and call the cook. He went in to the tent with her, and, in a moment more, they came out again, bringing in their arms a little boy about Rob's size.
"Oh, goodness!" cried Rob: "can't he walk? Pshaw! I hoped he'd go fishing with me! He won't be any fun."
"Why, Rob March!" exclaimed Nelly: "you're a selfish thing. How'd you like to be lame like that and not have anybody sorry for you?"
"Why, Nell, I am real sorry for him: I mean I expect I should be if I knew him; but I did hope he'd go round some with me. I haven't had a boy since we came to Colorado."
Nelly looked hurt.
"I'm sure I go everywhere that you do," she said. "You don't ever have to be alone."
"I know it, Nell," replied Rob, meekly: "you're as good as any girl can be,—lots better than most girls; but a boy's different. You'd like a girl sometimes yourself: you know you would."