"Don't you want to go into that house and sell something?" she asked, pointing to the house ahead of them.
"When I get there; and you must wait for me, outside, or I won't go in."
"Don't you know the way yourself?" she evaded.
"I've travelled it ever since the year 1, I ought to know it," he replied, contemptuously. "But you've got to wait for me."
"Oh, dear," sighed Marjorie, frightened at his insistence; then a quick thought came to her: "Perhaps they will keep you all night."
"They won't, they always refuse. They don't believe I'm an angel unawares. That's in the Bible."
"I'd ask them, if I were you," said Marjorie, in a coaxing, tremulous voice; "they're nice, kind people."
"Well, then, I will," he said, hurrying on.
She lingered, breathing more freely; he would certainly overtake her again before she could reach the next house and if she did not agree with everything he proposed he might become angry with her. Oh, dear! how queerly this day was ending! She did not really want anything to happen; the quiet days were the happiest, after all. He strode on before her, turning once in a while, to learn if she were following.
"That's right; walk slow," he shouted in a conciliatory voice.