amused curiosity.

I do not gratify his inquisitiveness.

"It was something not quite polite," I answer, shortly.

We walk on in silence, side by side. My temper is ruffled. I am planning
five distinct and lengthy vengeances against Bobby.

"I dare say," says my companion presently, "that you are wondering what
brought me in here now--what attraction a kitchen-garden could have for
me, at a time of year when not the most sanguine mind could expect to
find any thing good to eat in it."

"At least, it is sheltered," I answer, shivering, thrusting my hands a
little farther into the warm depths of my muff.

"I was thinking of old days," he says, with a hazy, wistful smile. "Ah!
you have not come to the time of life for doing that yet. Do you know, I
have not been here since your father and I were lads of eleven and
twelve together?"

"_You_ were eleven, and _he_ was twelve, I am sure," say
I, emphatically.

"Why?"

"You look _so much_ younger than he," I answer, looking frankly and
unembarrassedly up into his face.