294 FORGIVE HER? NO, NEVER!
She looked kind o pitiful at me ;
"Oh, father, I ve promised," she said, And left me. Along through the orchard
I saw the bent-down yaller head ; I saw her go wanderin further ;
I knew well enough where she went, For her mother lies buried off yonder,
The way that her footsteps was bent. An she come when the dew was a-fallin
Apast me, with never a word ; But out at her own little window
A pitiful sobbin I heard.
Well, after that, all through the summer,
She seemed kind o solemn and shy ; She said nothin more of her lover,
And nothin about him said I. Last night, when the milkin was over,
An I sat by the stoop all alone, Little Nancy came softly beside me,
And took my old hand in her own.
Her face was as red as the roses, I know now she tried to confess
That her mind was made up to the weddin , But she hadn t the courage, I guess.
Well, sir, when I called in the mornin No sleepy " Yes, father," I heard ;
I opened the door of her chamber, And pillow and blanket wa n t stirred.
�� �
