"Purty well, I'm obliged to you," sez I, "Miss Elssler aint to hum, is she?"
The critter looked at me as sober as a clam in high water, but yet she seemed to be kinder tickled inside of her, and turning her head round she let out a stream of stuff to somebody inside. It wasn't talking, nor singing, nor scolding, nor yet was it crying, but some sort of sounds kept a running off from her tongue as soft as a brook over a bed of white pebble stuns, and about as fast tu. She kept her hand a running up and down as if she'd half a notion to beat time to her own new fashioned singing, till all tu once, up cum a critter from t'other eend of the room, all dressed in white, as if she'd jest cum out of a band-box, with allfired harnsome black hair sleeked down each side of her face, with a hull swad of it twisted up behind, with a golden pin stuck through the heap, like one of marm's spindles spiked through a hunk of flax. The head of the pin was as big as a shag-bark walnut, and some sort of stun was sot in it that was like a gal's mind, no two minits alike—now it was red, now yaller, now green, and again all these colors seemed jumbled together and a flashing inside of it till you couldn't tell which was which. I swanny, if it didn't glisten so that I eenamost forgot that it was stuck in a woman's head, and that she was a looking into my face as mealy-mouthed and soft as could be.
"Has the gentleman mistook the room," sez she—
The words were sort of snipped off, but oh gracious, warn't they sweet! lasses candy and maple sugar was in every syllable. It seemed as if the critter had been fed forever on nothing but mellow peaches and slippery elm bark, she spoke so soft. She kinder smiled tu, but it was nat'ral as could be. Think sez I mebby the coot has led me into the wrong goose pen, but there aint no help for it now. So I jest walked a step for'ard, and sez I—
"How do you du marm?"
"I kinder guess there aint no mistake worth a mentioning. If Miss Elssler aint to hum I'll make tracks and cum agin, it aint no trouble, I'd just as livs as not, but I guess I'll leave this ere letter for fear she may want it. Some etarnal coot brought it up to my room, but I suppose the critter didn't know no better—some of these York chaps are green as young potatoes, don't you think so, marm?"
I didn't wait for no answer, but handed over the new fangled letter, and was a going right off agin, but she looked at the letter sort of astonished, and then at me, till I didn't know what to make of it. Arter a minit, sez she—
"Why dis is the card for Mr. Slick, one of de Editors of de Express who has just arrived; certainly he could not be so rude as to send it back again."
Oh gracious! think sez I, "Jonathan Slick, if you haint broke your onion string now!"
"Was the gentleman out?" sez she, looking at the paper, and then at me agin.