“I declare you are a good man,” she said—“the best-hearted, tenderest man in the world, Pole Baker!”
He looked at her steadily for an instant, then he said:
“Sally, I want you to do me a special favor.”
“What is it, Pole?” Her voice was full of wonder.
“Sally, now don't laugh at me, but I want you to go put on a piece o' red ribbon, an' let yore hair hang down yore back loose like you used to. Fix it that away an' then come in to the fire.”
“Pole, yo're foolish!” Mrs. Baker was really pleased, and yet she saw no reason for his whim.
“You do as I ax you, an' don't be long about it, nuther.”
He turned back into the firelight, and, watching him cautiously from the adjoining room, Mrs.
Baker saw him straightening out his shirt and brushing his coarse hair. Then, to her further surprise, she saw him take down his best coat from its peg on the wall and put it on. This was followed by a dusting of his rough shoes with a soiled, red handkerchief. In great wonder, Sally, with her hair loose on her shoulders, looked into the room.
“You ain't in earnest about that—that red ribbon, are you, Pole?” she faltered.