"And why not?" cried the other, with a snort. "You have examples enough about you, my conscience! What is all their singing and stuff about?"
"I think it is about me, Nannina."
"And their disputing?"
"It is about me."
"And the rhymes?"
"They are about me."
"And you have never—?"
"Never, never, never!"
"What, not in the garden even?"
"No, never, I tell you. Only my hand."