Part 11 (1/2)
She'd have a fit.”
”What did I say?” he asked, innocently.
”You said you'd _put a head_ on them.”
”So I would.”
”Only it is a very inelegant expression, as Miss Wiggins says.”
”If you don't like it, I won't say it any more.”
”Oh! I don't care,” said Bessie, laughing. ”You needn't be afraid I'll have a fit. I ain't such a model of propriety as that. Perhaps I shall be some time, when I get to be a stiff old maid like Priscilla Wiggins.”
”You won't be that.”
”How do you know?” said Bessie, saucily.
”You don't look like it.”
”Don't I? Perhaps n.o.body will marry me,” she said, demurely.
”If n.o.body else will, send for me!” said Tom, blus.h.i.+ng immediately at his unexpected boldness.
”Am I to regard that as a proposal?” asked Bessie, her eyes sparkling with fun.
”Yes, if you want to,” said Tom, manfully.
”I'm sure I'm very much obliged,” said the young lady. ”I won't forget it, and, if _n.o.body else_ will have me, I'll send for you.”
”She's a trump,” he thought, but fortunately didn't make use of a word which would have been highly objectionable to Miss Wiggins.
CHAPTER X.
TOM ARRIVES IN CINCINNATI.
”You haven't told me your name yet,” said Bessie, after a while.
”Gilbert Grey,” said Tom.
The name sounded strange to himself, for he had always been called Tom; but his street-life was over. He had entered upon a new career, and it was fitting that he should resume the name to which he had a rightful claim.
”That's a good name,” said Bessie, approvingly. ”Would you like to know mine?”
”I know it already--it's Bessie Benton.”
”Oh, you heard me use it. Do you like it?”
”Tip-top.”