"Not exactly, mother."
"Perhaps the governor came out to meet you when he heard you was on the road."
"Perhaps he did; I didn't see him, however. This apple pie tastes natural, mother. It is a great luxury to get home after one has been travelling."
"Very likely."
"No place like home, after all is done and said. Who was the fellow that wrote that song, mother?"
"I forget; the paper said he spent a great many years in foreign parts. My sake! Bobby; one would think by your talk that you had been away from home for a year."
"It seems like a year," said he, as he transferred another quarter of the famous apple pie to his plate. "I miss home very much. I don't more than half like being among strangers so much."
"It is your own choice; no one wants you to go away from home."
"I must pay my debts, any how. Don't I owe Squire Lee sixty dollars?"
"But I can pay that."