And knitted brows weighed soberly how much
each heir could lug.
Anon the lustful glances crossed and scowl re-
plied to scowl,
And spoke as plain as though the look were
voiced in sullen growl:
Thus when the parson prayed, “Oh, Lord, take
Thou this way-worn soul,”
I caught a look that plainly spoke: “I’ll take
that china bowl.”