"Can it be?" thought Susan, with a throbbing heart. "I darsn't speak,
for them two old witches are watching from the window."
Here the peddler espied her, and trolled out, in a rich, manly voice:
"My father he has locked the door,
My mother keeps the key:
But neither bolts nor bars shall part
My own true love and me."
"It is him!" gasped Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Oh, good gracious!"
"Good-day to you, my strapping, lass. How do you find yourself this
blessed morning?"
Susan Sharpe knew there were listening ears and looking eyes in the
kitchen, and for their benefit she retorted:
"It's no business of yours how I am! Be off with you! We don't allow no
vagrants here!"
"But I ain't a vagrant, my duck o' diamonds. I'm a respectable Yankee
peddler, trying to turn an honest penny by selling knickknacks to the
fair sect. Do let me in, there's a pretty dear! You hain't no idee of
the lovely things I've got in my pack--all dirt cheap, too!"
"I don't want nothing," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe.
"But your ma does, my love, or your elder sister, which I see 'em at the
winder this minute.
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