I should have liked some one near to joke with.
Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere.

Never be surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops out of it; never be disturbed when you think yourself in complete solitude if you discover a boy peering out at you from a fence corner.
I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me from out of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two others appeared.
Instantly I switched into "Marching Through Georgia," and began to nod my head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion.

Presently one boy climbed up on the fence, then another, then a third.

I continued to play.

The fourth boy, a little chap, ventured to climb up on the fence.
They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes.
"It's hard luck," said I, taking my whistle from my lips, "to have to wear shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this." "You bet it is!" said the bold leader.
"In that case," said I, "I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'" I played.