“Don’t you speak to Jack,” whispered Tommy, as he and Nan promenaded down the hall to get a fork to prick the apples.
“Why not?”
“He laughs at me, so I don’t wish you to have any thing to do with him.”
“Shall, if I like,” said Nan, promptly resenting this premature assumption of authority on the part of her lord.
“Then I won’t have you for my sweetheart.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why, Nan, I thought you were fond of me!” and Tommy’s voice was full of tender reproach.
“If you mind Jack’s laughing I don’t care for you one bit.”
“Then you may take back your old ring; I won’t wear it any longer;” and Tommy plucked off a horse-hair pledge of affection which Nan had given him in return for one made of a lobster’s feeler.