"I'm going out for a walk, you know, and I may as well make myself smart." With that announcement, he began to sing over his work--a song of sentiment, popular in England in the early part of the present century--"She's all my fancy painted her; she's lovely, she's divine; but her heart it is another's; and it never can be mine! Too-ral-loo-ral-loo'.

I like a love-song.

Brush away! brush away! till I see my own pretty face in the blacking.

Hey! Here's a nice, harmless, jolly old man! sings and jokes over his work, and makes the kitchen quite cheerful.

What's that you say?
He's a stranger, and don't talk to him too freely.