Birds, flowers, and worms exceed me still.”
“Then why not a bonnet?” suggested Bundock. “That would be cheaper than a gown.”
“Ay, a bonnet!” agreed Caleb, though he sounded it a “boarnt.”
Martha flashed a resentful glance which, however, Bundock took for but another thrust at Caleb’s obstinate hat.
“I don’t want a new bonnet,” she cried indignantly.
“It needn’t be new,” said Bundock helpfully. “Just have your old bonnet whitened. That’s on her bill-paper:
‘Bonnets Bleached As Good As New.’ ”
“That’s a good notion,” said Caleb. “You don’t want it bran-span-new. Posty’ll tell her to come over here to get your old boarnt and then we’ll spring Cousin Caroline’s letter on her for her to read!” He chuckled. Bundock chuckled too, swelling at the adoption of his advice.
“And now that I’ve stopped gammicking so long, I may as well sample that cowslip wine, Mrs. Flynt,” he observed graciously.
But Martha had vanished.