“Ay; but what upon?”
“Well, Tibbie,” Jonathan answered, in embarrassment, “I was jus’—ponderin’.”
“What is it, Jonathan?”
“I was ’lowin’, Tibbie,” Jonathan admitted, “that it wouldn’t be so easy—no, not so easy—t’ do without that sweetness in my tea.”
“What you thinkin’ about, dear?” Jonathan asked.
“I got a sinful hankerin’,” Aunt Tibbie answered, repeating the sigh.
“Is you, dear?”
“I got a sinful hankerin’,” said she, “for that there bottle o’ hair-restorer. For I don’t want t’ go bald! God forgive me,” she cried, in an agony of humiliation, “for this vanity!”
“Hush, dear!” Jonathan whispered, tenderly; “for I loves you, bald or not!”