"When Corinne Was nineteen, very beautiful and vital, Red-cheeked, a dancer, bubbling like new wine, A catch, as you may know, you see this house Was full of laughter then, so many children. We had our parties, too, and young men thought, Each one of us would have a dowry splendid-- A young man from Chicago came along, A lawyer there, but lately come from Pittsburgh To practice, win his way. I knew this man. He was a handsome dog with curly hair, Blue eyes and sturdy figure. Well, Corinne Quite lost her heart. He came here to a dance, And so the game commenced. And father thought The fellow was not right, but all of us, Your mother and myself said, yes he is, And we conspired to help Corinne and smooth The path of confidence. But later on Corinne was not so buoyant, would not talk With me, your mother freely. Then at last Her eyes were sometimes red; we knew she wept. And, then Corinne was sent away. Well, here You'll guess the rest. Her health was breaking down, That's true enough; the world could think its thoughts, And say his love grew cold, or she found out The black-leg that he was, and he was that. But Elenor, the truth was more than that, Corinne had been betrayed, she went away To right herself--these letters prove the case, Which all the gossips, busy as they were, Could not make out. The paper at LeRoy Had printed that she went to pay a visit To relatives in the east. Three months or so She came back well and rosy. But meanwhile Your grandfather had paid this shabby scoundrel A sum of money, I forget the sum, To get these letters of your Aunt Corinne-- These letters here. This matter leaked, of course. And then we let the story take this form And moulded it a little to this form: The fellow was a scoundrel--this was proved When he took money to return her letters. They were love letters, they had been engaged, She thought him worthy, found herself deceived Proved, too, by taking money, when at first He looked with honorable eyes to young Corinne, And won her trust. And so Corinne lived here Ten years or more, at thirty married the judge, Her senior thirty years, and went away. She bore a child and died--look Elenor Here are the letters which she took and nailed Beneath the garret floor. We'll read them through, And then I'll burn them." Irma Leese rose up And put the letters in her desk and said: "Let's ride along the river." So they rode, But as they rode, the day being clear and mild The fancy took them to Chicago, where They lunched and spent the afternoon, returning At ten o'clock that night.