“You'll have to help it the next time, you little rascal!” responded Ajax.
“Le' me go. I hope to be killed if I ever do it ag'in,” pleaded Pomp, dancing about in pain.
“I hope you gin it to him,” said the old lady, as the driver reappeared.
Ajax smiled grimly. “I touched him up a little,” he said.
“Oh, my poor bunnit!” groaned Mrs. Payson, once more, as her eyes fell upon the crushed article. “What will Cynthy Ann say?”
“Perhaps a milliner can restore it for you,” suggested Henry Morton, with an attempt at consolation.
The old lady shook her head disconsolately. “It's all jammed out of shape,” she said dismally, “an' the flowers is all mashed up. Looks as ef an elephant had trodden on to it.”
“As you are the only one of us that has suffered,” said the young man politely, “I think it only fair that your loss should be lightened. Will you accept this toward making it good?”
He drew from his portemonnaie a five-dollar greenback, as he spoke, and offered it to Mrs. Payson.
“Are you in airnest?” inquired the old lady dubiously.