XVII.

When I was dustin' off her desk one day, And she was standin' there, I took the pad She writes on when she gets dictates and had A notion to tear off a leaf and lay It up against my heart at night, when they Was something made her come to where I stood And say, "Poor boy," as softly as she could— It almost seemed to take my breath away.

That night I couldn't sleep at all becuz The thoughts about them words that she had said Kep' all the time a-goin' through my head With thoughts about how beautiful she wuz, And then I knowed she loved me, too, or she Would not of cared how hard I worked, you see.