"Well, I have thought a good deal of it myself of late," admitted Sally thoughtfully. "You profess to think a lot of me, but I expect you would refuse me the least little favor I might ask of you."
"Have you usually found me a hard-hearted old skinflint?" asked the Squire reproachfully.
"I've never put your kindness to a very great test, as yet. I thought I would begin with asking a little favor. You wouldn't refuse me that now, would you?"
The girl looked up smiling into the old man's face, and brought all the coquetry at her command into play.
"What is the favor?" asked the Squire shrewdly. "I never like to make a promise till I know what I'm promising."
"It's about the smallest possession you have, and the one least valuable to you."
"Well, what is it?"
"I want the hat that was picked up last night."
"Hum—m—m!" said the Squire meditatively. "In what manner does that hat concern you?"
"How it concerns me, does not concern you," retorted the girl promptly, with an arch glance.