“Now, look at that,” said Joe; “did you ever see me wild, Polly?”
“Never, Joe—I will say that.”
“No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. Bumpkin, or the Vicar, or anybody else you like, Polly—.”
“I shall go and see your mother,” said Polly.
“Will you come to-morrow night?” asked Joe.
“If I can get away I will; but I must go now—good-bye—good-bye—good——”
“Are you in a hurry, Polly.”
“I must go, Joe—good—; but I will come to-morrow, as soon as dinner is over—good—good—good-bye.”
“And then——,” but the Old Oak kept his counsel. Here I awoke.
* * * * *