The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin’, An’ she looked full ez rosy again Ez the apples she was peelin’. ’Twas kin’ o’ kingdom come to look On sech a blessed cretur; A dogrose blushin’ to a brook Ain’t modester nor sweeter. He was six foot o’ man, A1, Clean grit an’ human natur’; None couldn’t quiker pitch a ton, Nor dror a furrer straighter. He’d sparked it with full twenty gals, He’d squired ’em, danced ’em, druv ’em, Fust this one, an’ then thet, by spells— All is, he couldn’t love ’em. But long o’ her his veins ’ould run All crinkly like curled maple; The side she breshed felt full o’ sun Ez a south slope in Ap’il. She thought no v’ice hed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir: My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring She _knowed_ the Lord was nigher. An’ she’d blush scarlet, right in prayer, When her new meetin’-bunnet Felt somehow thru’ its crown a pair O’ blue eyes sot upon it. Thet night, I tell ye, she looked _some_! She seemed to’ve gut a new soul, For she felt sartain-sure he’d come, Down to her very shoe-sole. She heered a foot, and knowed it tu, A-rasping on the scraper,— All ways to once her feelin’s flew, Like sparks in burnt-up paper. 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 cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder An’ on her apples kep’ to work, Parin’ away like murder. “You want to see my Pa, I s’pose?” “Wall ... no ... I come dasignin’”— “To see my Ma? she is sprinklin’ clo’es Agin to-morrer’s i’nin’.” To say why gals act so or so, Or don’t, ’ould be presumin’; Mebbe to mean _yes_ an’ say _no_ Comes nateral to women. He stood a spell on one foot first, Then stood a spell on t’other, An’ on which one he felt the wust He couldn’t ha’ told ye nuther. Says he, “I’d better call agin;” Says she, “Think likely, Mister;” Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An’.... Wal, he up an’ kist her.