An' de bacon am good,
An' de 'possum fat am berry, berry fine;
But gib me, yes, gib me,
Oh, how I wish you would,
Dat watermillion growin' on de vine!"

Before they knew it the early morning light was creeping in at
the small-paned windows. Burns consulted his watch.

"If you'll give us a cup of coffee, Aunt Ellen, we'll be off
in fifteen minutes. Miss Mathewson - his glance mirthfully
surveyed her - "Aunt Ellen will take you upstairs and give you
a chance to put that magnificent brown hair into a condition
where it will not shock the natives at the station. As for
mine - "

When Aunt Ellen and Miss Mathewson, each in her own way
feeling as if she had passed through an extraordinary
experience likely never to occur again, had hurried away,
Burns applied himself to a process of reconstruction. When
every rebellious red hair had been reduced to its usual order
and his thick locks lay with the little wave in them as his
mother had begun to brush them years ago; when collar and
cravat rose sedately above the gray tweed coat, and a fresh,
fine handkerchief had replaced the dingy one which had been
through every manner of exercise in the "circus," Burns drew
up a chair and faced his patients with the keen, professional
gaze which told him whether or not his night's work had been
good therapeutics.