You would like, yourself, a sewing-machine!
Well, get one, then—of the same design—
There are plenty left where I got mine!”
HOW THEY SAID GOOD-NIGHT.
They have had a long evening together (three whole hours), but it doesn’t seem more than five minutes to them. Still, the inexorable clock is announcing the hour of eleven in the most forcible and uncompromising manner. He knows that he ought to go, because he must be at the store at seven in the morning; she fully realizes that his immediate departure is necessary, for has not her father threatened that he will come down and “give that young Simpkins a piece of his mind if he don’t leave by eleven o’clock in the future?” They both understand that the fatal hour has come, yet how they hate to part!
“Well, I suppose I must be going,” he says, with a long, regretful sigh.
“Yes, I suppose you must,” she rejoins.
Then they gaze into each other’s eyes; then she pillows her head upon his bosom; then their lips meet, and he mentally swears that if he can get his salary raised to eighteen dollars a week he will make her Mrs. G. W. Simpkins without further agonizing delay.