I sniggers, if I didn't raly pity the poor gal, she looked so struck up in a heap; but what on arth made her act so I couldn't tell at fust, for I felt kinder streaked as if I'd done something that wasn't exactly right, though I couldn't think what, and it was as much as a minit afore I looked right in her face. But jest as I lifted up my head, and drew up my foot, arter making one of my fust cut bows, she stood jest afore me. By the living hokey, I never was so struck up in my born days! You know what I've told you about Miss Miles, about her plump round form, her red lips, and her rosy cheeks. Well, I'll be darned if there was one of them left--I shouldn't have known her no more than nothing, if it hadn't been for her eyes and the way she spoke. Her neck and for'ard that always looked so white and harnsome, when I see her at Cousin Mary's, and in Broadway, was as yaller as a safron bag. There warn't the least mite of red in her face, and her hair was all frizzley, and done up in a leetle bunch, about as big as a hen's egg behind! She had on a great loose awk'ard-looking gown, that made her seem twice as chunked as she used to, and that looked more like a man's shirt cut long and ruffled round than any thing else. It warn't any too clean neither, and both her leetle shoes were down to the heel. There I stood a looking at her with all the eyes in my head--my foot was drawed up tight, and my arms were a hanging straight down, jest as they swung back arter I'd made my bow. I kinder seemed tu feel that my mouth was open a leetle, and that I was a staring at her harder than was manners for me. But if you'd a given me the best farm in all Weathersfield, I couldn't have helped it, I was so struck up in a heap at seeing her in sich a fix. I guess it was as much as two minits afore either on us said a word; and, at last, Miss Miles turned to the nigger as savage as a meataxe, and, sez she, "Why didn't you show Mr. Slick into the drawing room?" "Oh, don't seem to mind it," sez I a walking into the room, and a setting down on a chair with my hat between my knees, "I'd jest as livs set up here as any where." She looked as if she'd burst right out a crying, but at last she sot down and tried to act as if she was glad to see me. She begun to make excuses about herself and the room, and said she wasn't very well that morning, that she took a new book, and sot down jest as she was to read it. "Oh," sez I, "don't make no excuses; it aint the fust time that I've ketched a gal in the suds. Marm used to say that she never looked worse than common that somebody wasn't sartin to drop in." "Will you excuse me one instant, Mr. Slick," sez she, a minit arter I'd said this, and a looking down on her awk'ard dress, as if she couldn't help but feel streaked yit. "Sartinly," sez I; "don't make no stranger of me."