"Oh, Rob, you don't 'have' to say it!" exclaimed Nell. "Nobody 'has to say' any thing." "Girls don't," said Rob, patronizingly: "but girls are different; I'm always telling you that girls don't need words like boys. It's just like whistling: girls needn't whistle; but a boy--why, a boy'd die if he couldn't whistle." "I can whistle," said Nell. "I can whistle most as well as you." "You can't, Nell," exclaimed Rob, utterly astonished. For reply, Nelly quietly whistled a bar of Yankee Doodle. Rob stared at her. "Why, so you can!" said he. "I didn't know girls ever whistled: I thought they were made so they couldn't." "Oh, no!" said Mrs. March; "I used to be a great whistler when I was a girl; but I never let anybody hear me, if I could help it. And Nelly knows that it is not lady-like for a girl to whistle. She likes to whistle as well as you like to say 'bully,' however; so you might leave off that as well as she can leave off whistling." "But you used to whistle all alone by yourself," persisted Rob; "and it is just as good fun to whistle all alone as with other people; but it wouldn't be any fun to go off all alone, and say 'bully! bully! bully!'" Mrs. March put her hands over her ears, and exclaimed: "Oh, Rob! Rob! That makes six times! That dreadful word!" "Oh!" said Rob, pretending to be very innocent, "do you mind my saying it that way? That wasn't saying it really: only talking about it," and Rob gave his mother a mischievous look. The streets were thronged with people; everybody seemed in a hurry; the shop windows were full of just such things as one sees in shop windows at the East; through street after street they walked, growing more and more surprised every moment. "Why, Robert," said Mrs. March, "except for the bustling and excited air of the people, I should not know that I was not in an Eastern city." "Nor I," said Mr. March: "I am greatly astonished to see such a civilized-looking place." Just then an open carriage rolled past them. It was a beautiful carriage, lined with red satin. "Oh, mamma! there is the nice lady who was in the cars," said Nelly: "let me go and speak to her." The lady saw them and stopped her carriage: she was very glad to see their faces; she felt so lonely in this strange place. She was all alone with her doctor and nurse; and already she was so homesick she was almost ready to turn about and go home. "Oh! do let your little girl jump in and take a drive with me," she said. "It will be a great favor to me if you will." "Oh, mamma! let me; let me," cried Nelly; and, almost before her mother had fully pronounced the words giving her permission, she was climbing up the carriage steps. As she took her seat by the lady's side, she looked wistfully back at Rob. Mrs. Williams (that was the lady's name) observed the glance, and said: "Won't you let the little boy come too? Would you like to come, dear?" "No, thank you," said Rob: "I'd rather walk. I can see better."