mean no harm.  I--I--thought you'd like it.” “Why, you born fool!”  She took up the spinning stick, and it looked like it was all she could do to keep from giving him a crack with it. “What made you think I'd like it?” “Well, I don't know.  Only, they--they--told me you would.” “_They_ told you I would.  Whoever told you's _another_ lunatic.  I never heard the beat of it.  Who's _they_?” “Why, everybody.  They all said so, m'am.” It was all she could do to hold in; and her eyes snapped, and her fingers worked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says: “Who's 'everybody'?  Out with their names, or ther'll be an idiot short.” He got up and looked distressed, and fumbled his hat, and says: “I'm sorry, and I warn't expecting it.  They told me to.  They all told me to.  They all said, kiss her; and said she'd like it.  They all said it--every one of them.  But I'm sorry, m'am, and I won't do it no more--I won't, honest.” “You won't, won't you?  Well, I sh'd _reckon_ you won't!” “No'm, I'm honest about it; I won't ever do it again--till you ask me.” “Till I _ask_ you!  Well, I never see the beat of it in my born days!  I lay you'll be the Methusalem-numskull of creation before ever I ask you--or the likes of you.” “Well,” he says, “it does surprise me so.  I can't make it out, somehow. They said you would, and I thought you would.  But--” He stopped and looked around slow, like he wished he could run across a friendly eye somewheres, and fetched up on the old gentleman's, and says, “Didn't _you_ think she'd like me to kiss her, sir?” “Why, no; I--I--well, no, I b'lieve I didn't.” Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says: “Tom, didn't _you_ think Aunt Sally 'd open out her arms and say, 'Sid Sawyer--'” “My land!” she says, breaking in and jumping for him, “you impudent young rascal, to fool a body so--” and was going to hug him, but he fended her off, and says: “No, not till you've asked me first.” So she didn't lose no time, but asked hi