Seemed warm f’om floor to ceilin’,

[521]

An’ she looked full ez rosy agin

Ez the apples she was peelin’.

. . . . . .

He kin’ o’ l’itered on the mat,

Some doubtfle o’ the sekle,

His heart kep’ goin’ pity-pat,

But hern went pity Zekle.

An’ yit she gin her chair a jerk