These greedy mouths are watering For the fruit within the basket; And, although they will not ask it, Their jack-knives all are burning And their eager hands are yearning For the peeling and the quartering. So let us have done with our talk; For they are too tired to say their prayers, And the time is come they should walk From the story below to the story upstairs. THE THIRD MOVEMENT. LOCALITY.--_The Kitchen_. PRESENT.-DAVID, RUTH, JOHN, PETER, PRUDENCE, _and_ PATIENCE, THE QUESTION ILLUSTRATED BY THE DENOUEMENT. _John_. Since the old gentleman retired to bed, Things have gone strangely. David, here, and Ruth, Have wasted thirty minutes underground In explorations. One would think the house Covered the entrance of the Mammoth Cave, And they had lost themselves. Mary and Grace Still hold their chamber and their conference, And pour into each other's greedy ears Their stream of talk, whose low monotonous hum, Would lull to slumber any storm but this. The children are play-tired and gone to bed; And one may know by looking round the room Their place of sport was here. And we, plain folk, Who have no gift of speech, especially On themes which we and none may understand, Have yawned and nodded in the great square room, And wondered if the parted family Would ever meet again. _Ruth_. John, do you see The apples and the cider on the hearth? If I remember rightly, you discuss Such themes as these with noticeable zest And pleasant tokens of intelligence; Rather preferring scanty company To the full circle. So, sir, take the lead, And help yourself. _John_. Aye! That I will, and give Your welcome invitation currency, In the old-fashioned way. Come! Help yourselves! _David_. [_Looking out from the window_.] The ground is thick with sleet, and still it falls! The atmosphere is plunging like the sea Against the woods, and pouring on the night The roar of breakers, while the blinding spray O'erleaps the barrier, and comes drifting on In lines as level as the window-bars. What curious visions, in a night like this, Will the eye conjure from the rocks and trees And zigzag fences! I was almost sure I saw a man staggering along the road A moment since; but instantly the shape Dropped from my sight. Hark! Was not that a call-- A human voice? There's a conspiracy Between my eyes and ears to play me tricks, Else wanders there abroad some hapless soul Who needs assistance. There he stands again, And with unsteady essay strives to breast The tempest. Hush! Did you not hear that cry? Quick, brothers! We must out, and give our aid. None but a dying and despairing man Ever gave utterance to a cry like that. Nay, wait for nothing. Follow me! _Ruth_.