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.
"Do I ?" (with a pleased smile).

"It is clear, then, that one cannot judge of one's self; on the rare occasions when I look in the glass it seems to me that, in the course of the last five years, I have grown into a _very_ old fogy." "He looks as if he had been so much oftener vexed, and so much seldomer pleased than you do," continued I, mentally comparing the smooth though weather-beaten benignity of the straight-cut features beside me, with the austere and frown-puckered gravity of my father's.
"Does he ?" he answers, with an air of half-surprised interest, as if the subject had never struck him in that light before.

"Poor fellow! I am sorry if it is so.