“What’s that, Mis’ Brown? ‘All friends,’ of course;
And you can see with your own eyes,
That that gray mare’s the better horse,
Though gossipin’ I do dispise.”
“Poor Mary Allen’s lost her beau”—
“It serves her right, conceited thing!
She’s flirted awfully, I know.
Say have you heard she kept his ring?”
“Listen! the clock is striking six.
Thank goodness! then it’s time for tea.”