“Tom,” she said, “I guess I shall marry you when I’m grown up,—either you or Papa.”
“People can’t marry their fathers!” said Tom, with an air of superior wisdom, “because they’ve got married already, you know.”
“Well, then, I shall marry you, because I love you so much. People can marry their brothers, can’t they, Tom?”
“I don’t know about that,” answered Tom shrewdly.
“Well, then, let me see—who shall I marry? I did think of marrying Mary Weston, but her’s married already, you know. I guess I’ll marry Mr. Dawson.”
“I know why,” said Tom quickly; “it’s because he’s got some puppies! Oh, you selfish girl!”
“I don’t care,” said poor Posy in a very crestfallen manner; “I’d give you one of the puppies, Tom.”
“I guess Mr. Dawson will be out of the world long before you’re ready to git married, Posy,” said Hannah, who had been listening to the conversation between the children; “he must be nigh onto seventy if he’s a day. Well, Tom, who do you intend to marry?”
“If I marry for love,” answered Tom, “I shall marry Auntie; but if I marry for money, I shall marry Katie Thomas, because her father’s got more money than old Mr. Thornton, and he’s got a hundred dollars in the bank.”
“Well, I never!” said Hannah; “but I guess I’d better be about my work. I wish that lazy Michael would bring me in some wood. He grows worse every day. I bet he’s asleep somewhere,—he usually is asleep when there’s anything to be done.”