“Oh, sir! how could you? Indeed, sir. I think you did wrong. The poor brute did not know what he was doing, I dare say, and probably he has been a faithful friend.” The girl cast her mischievous eyes towards her companions, who snickered again. The old man was not conscious of the sarcasm. He only saw reproach. His face straightened, and he regarded the girl soberly.
“Mebbe you’re right, my dear; mebbe I oughtn’t.”
“I am sure of it,” said the girl. “But now don’t you want to buy a bonnet or a cloak to carry home to your wife?”
“Well, you’re whistlin’ now, birdie; that’s my intention; set ’em all out.” Again the elder’s face shone with delight. “An’ I don’t want no one-hoss bonnet neither.”
“Of course not. Now here is one; pink silk, with delicate pale blue feathers. Just the thing for the season. We have nothing more elegant in stock.” Elder Brown held it out, upside down, at arm’s-length.
“Well, now, that’s suthin’ like. Will it soot a sorter redheaded ’ooman?”
A perfectly sober man would have said the girl’s corsets must have undergone a terrible strain, but the elder did not notice her dumb convulsion. She answered, heroically:
“Perfectly, sir. It is an exquisite match.”
“I think you’re whistlin’ again. Nancy’s head’s red, red as a woodpeck’s. Sorrel’s only half-way to the color of her top-knot, an’ it do seem like red oughter to soot red. Nancy’s red an’ the hat’s red; like goes with like, an’ birds of a feather flock together.” The old man laughed until his cheeks were wet.
The girl, beginning to feel a little uneasy, and seeing a customer entering, rapidly fixed up the bonnet, took fifteen dollars out of a twenty-dollar bill, and calmly asked the elder if he wanted anything else. He thrust his change somewhere into his clothes, and beat a retreat. It had occurred to him that he was nearly drunk.