"'Pshaw!' said the Ogress contemptuously. 'You needn't shake! Do you suppose I would eat such a little tough, bony fellow as you for supper? No! When do your grandchildren come home from school?'
"'Oh,' groaned Toby, 'take me, dear Mrs. Ogress, and spare my grandchildren!'
"'I should smile,' said the Ogress. That was all the reply she made. She talked popular slang along with her other bad habits.
"Toby wept, and groaned, and pleaded, but he could not get another word out of her. She filled the great soup-kettle with water, set it over the fire (Toby shuddered to see her), then she sat down to wait for the grandchildren to come home from school. She was uncommonly homely, even for an ogress, and she wore a brown calico dress that was very unbecoming.
"Poor Toby gazed at her in fear and disgust. He looked out of the door, expecting every moment to see his grandchildren coming, one behind the other, swinging their little lanterns. School children always walked one behind the other in Pokonoket. It was against the law to walk two abreast.
"Finally, when the Ogress was leaning over the soup-kettle, putting her fingers in, to see if it was hot enough, Toby slipped out of the door, and ran straight to the minister's.
"He stood outside the study window and groaned.
"'What is the trouble?' asked the minister, poking his head out.
"'Oh,' cried Toby, 'you married me to the—Ogress!'
"'You don't say so!' cried the minister.