All steaming like a brewer’s vat,
And then—as white as my cravat—
Poor Mary May, the servant!
Lord, how the couple’s teeth did chatter!
Master and Mistress both flew at her,
“Speak! Fire? or Murder? What’s the matter?”
Till Mary, getting breath,
Upon her tale began to touch
With rapid tongue, full trotting, such
As if she thought she had too much