6. Now it was, observe, that the kettle began to spend the
evening. Now it was that the kettle, growing mellow and musical,
began to have irrepressible gurglings in the throat, and to
indulge in short vocal snorts, which it checked in the bud, as if
it hadn't quite made up its mind yet to be good company. Now it
was that, after two or three such vain attempts to stifle its
convivial sentiments, it threw off all moroseness, all reserve,
and burst into a stream of song so cozy and hilarious as never
maudlin nightingale yet formed the least idea of.

7. So plain, too! Bless you, you might have understood it like a
book; better than some books you and I could name, perhaps. With
its warm breath gushing forth in a light cloud, which merrily and
gracefully ascended a few feet, then hung about the chimney
corner, as its own domestic heaven, it trolled its song with that
strong energy of cheerfulness that its iron body hummed and
stirred upon the fire; and the lid itself, the recently rebellious
lid--such is the influence of a bright example--performed a sort
of jig, and clattered like a deaf and dumb young cymbal that had
never known the use of its twin brother.

8. That this song of the kettle's was a song of invitation and
welcome to somebody out of doors, to somebody at that moment
coming on towards the snug, small home and the crisp fire, there
is no doubt whatever. Mrs. Peerybingle knew it perfectly, as she
sat musing before the hearth.

9. "It's a dark night," sang the kettle, "and the rotten leaves
are lying by the way, and above all is mist and darkness, and