"Nonsense," said Arthur, "don't you think I can judge for myself, as
regards that? Abel, do tell Mr. Hubbard of our little adventure in the
bakehouse."

"With pleasure," said Abel, "especially as you two have not let me say a
word yet. Well, Mr. Hubbard, Arthur and I having nothing else to do, got
hungry, and as it was a fine evening, thought we would walk out in search
of something to satisfy our appetites, and there being a pretty girl in
Brown's bakehouse, who waits on customers, we took that direction. Arthur,
you know, is engaged to be married, and has no excuse for such things, but
I having no such ties, am free to search for pretty faces, and to make the
most of it when I find them. We walked on, arm-in-arm, and when we got to
the shop, there stood Mrs. Brown behind the counter, big as all out doors,
with a very red face, and in a violent perspiration; there was some thing
wrong with the old lady 'twas easy to see."

"'Well, Mrs. Brown,' said Arthur, for I was looking in the glass cases and
under the counter for the pretty face, 'have you any rusk?'

"'Yes, sir, we _always_ have rusk,' said Mrs. Brown, tartly.

"'Will you give us some, and some cakes, or whatever you have? and then we
will go and get some soda water, Abel.'

"Mrs. Brown fussed about like a 'bear with a sore head,' and at last she
broke out against _that gal_.

"'Where on earth has she put that cake?' said she. 'I sent her in here
with it an hour ago; just like her, lazy, good-for-nothing Irish thing.