“How would it be with the tabs?”
“Oh,” sez he, “it might stretch ’em a little, but if a pardner wouldn’t be willin’ to resk a tab for her husband, she can’t think much on him.”
And he prepared to mount the steep, a-holdin’ out his hand for the mantilly.
I stood still, foldin’ my tabs round me more clost.
Sez he, “You talk a sight about your feelin’s for me, and now you put a mantilly ahead of ’em. I hain’t equal in your mind to a tab,” sez he bitterly.
A thought struck aginst me. “No, Josiah,” sez I, “you use my mantilly to-day, and to-morrer we will come back, and I will use the tossels on your dressin’-gown.” (They wuz stout ones—stout as a rope almost.)
He looked dumbfoundered. “Use them tossels?” sez he.
“Yes,” sez I; “you can’t think much of me if you put them tossels ahead of me.”
Sez he, “Them tossels hain’t a-goin’ to be used to lift a ton’s weight. I might as well give ’em up to once as to misuse ’em so.”
“Then I hain’t as much importance in your mind as a tossel?” sez I; and he admitted that I wuzn’t half so good lookin’.