Well, there, say no more about it--so long as it
wasn't at Me, I don't mind! [_They pass on._
_A Wheezy Matron_ (_in a shawl_). She was a prettier byby in the fice
than any o' the others--sech a lydylike byby she was--we never 'ad
no bother with her! and never, as long as I live, shall I forgit her
Grandpa's words when he saw her settin' up in her 'igh cheer at tea,
with her little cheeks a marsk o' marmalade. "LOUISER JYNE," he sez,
"you mark my words--she's the on'y reelly _nice_ byby you ever 'ad, or
_will_ ave!"
_Her Comp_. An' he wasn't given to compliments in a general way,
neither, _was_ he?
_Anxious Mother_. I can't make him out. Sometimes I think he means
something, and yet,--Every morning we've been here, he's come up to
her on the Pier, and brought her a carnation inside of his 'at.
_Her Confidante_. Then depend upon it, my dear, he has intentions. _I_
should say so, certingly!
_The Mother_. Ah, but CARRIE tells me she's dropped her glove,
accidental-like, over and over again, and he's always picked it
up,--and handed it back to her.
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