"And how," melodramatically, "could you expect me to keep away when you are here, and I smelt new saffron cake ?" "And how do you expect me to do all I've a-got to do with the lot of you thronging up every inch of my kitchen ?" she went on, ignoring his flattery.
"Ask me another," said Dan, handing nubbies the while to all the others.
"I give that one up.

But I knew you would be frightfully cut up if I didn't come." Fanny snorted in a most contemptuous manner, and tossed her head with great scorn.

"Oh! I'd have managed to survive it, I dare say, and I don't suppose I should break down if you was to go." "Do you know, Fanny dear," said Dan, suddenly growing very serious, "when I went away I never expected to see you still in this dear old kitchen when I came home, and the thought nearly broke my heart; it did really.

I didn't think you could have stood--you know who, so long." "Well, I reckon you won't see me here next time you comes home," said Fanny, trying hard not to look pleasant; "and as for this 'dear old kitchen,' as you call it--dear old barn, I call it, with its draughts and its old rough floor--it isn't never no credit to me, do what I will to it, and Mrs.Pike is always going on at me about the place.

I says sometimes I'll give up and let it go, and then some folks'll see the difference." Kitty remembered the time when Fanny, not so many months back, had let it go, and she had seen the difference.