I wish we had a pudding here!

Methinks ’twould broil so clean and nice;

I’d make it ready in a trice;

She spoke—and in the chimney rumbled

A noise—and down a pudding tumbled!

The affrighted Susan stood amaz’d,

With tearful eyes, and hands uprais’d,

O’erwhelm’d with grief and self-reproach,

Farewell! to Madam in her coach!

[p25]
Her tongue itself forgot its use,—