That was the way he gained the best of her, whether it was the bowl of milk or the hazel switch, for afterwards she was as good a wife as ever churned butter; but what did it is a question that you will have to answer for yourself. All the same, she tried no more of her tricks with him, I can tell you. And so this story comes to an end, like everything else in the world.
Twelve O’clock·
Hist! Hark! |●|
The Watch-dogs bark.
The Fire is covered.
The Bricks grow cold;
In the warmest Corner’s
The brown Kobold. |☽|