“Is it a joke?”
“No-o, a joke, yes, a—no-o, it is not.”
“Father, what are ye thinkin’?”
“I—I, well, I’ve been a-thinkin’!” replied Griffiths, with conviction.
Mother’s face expressed censure.
“I’m thinkin’ now, mother, I’m thinkin’ of goin’ to Liverpool.”
“Liverpool! an’ what would ye be goin’ there for?”
“I’m thinkin’, mother, of goin’ to-morrow.”
“Thinkin’ of goin’ to-morrow?”
“Aye!”