“So his mouth’ll be sweet to kiss, like Nunky’s,” whispered the little girl, with another blush.
“Dear papa! I wish you’d cure him of smoking. Will you try?” whispered mamma.
Posy looked up to see if she were in earnest.
“Yes, mamma, I’ll try,” said she gravely, and ran to join Pollio.
“What were you whispering about?”
“Oh, you’ll see!” replied Posy, with an air of importance. “Let me buy the tobacco.”
When they reached “the little woman’s” store, Posy walked up to the counter ahead of Pollio, and said with much decision, “If you please’m, we want the worst tobacco you’ve got.”
Miss Rounds stared.
“The worst!” exclaimed she, looking along the row of glass boxes, and then back again at solemn Miss Posy. “Did your papa say so?”