XV.

When her and me were here alone, at noon, And she had bit a pickle square in two, I set and watched and listened to her chew, And thought how sweet she was, and pretty soon She happened to look down at me and say: "You seem so sad, poor boy; what's wrong with you?" And then I got to shiverin' all through And wished that I was forty miles away.

I tried to think of some excuse to make, But something seemed all whirly in my head, And so the first blame thing I knew I said: "It's nothin' only just the stummick ache." Sometimes I almost wisht that I was dead For settin' there and makin' such a break.