dyes Warble's cheek. His arm is round her soft neck, his hand holds her
dimpled chin.

With a little sigh, Warble's blue eyes close, her scarlet lips part and
though she wants to struggle she dare not,

For he is a determined man, and a dentist will have his fill.

Petticoat came to see her in Hoboken after she had been there a year.
Unexpected and unannounced, he strode in to the pickle foundry and grasped
the fat arm of the girl who worked next to Warble.

"Come along," he said, not unkindly, but the girl screamed.

"Beg pardon," Petticoat said, nonchalantly, "sorry. Thought you were my
wife. Know where I can find her?"

A slim, fairy-like Warble turned to greet him.

Petticoat couldn't believe his eyes. That sylph, that thread, that
wisp--his Warble--his one time plump wife!"

"Gee, you're great!" he cried, "I'm for you!"

She got leave from the factory for a couple of years, with privilege of
extension.

"I don't want to impose on your kindness," he said, "but I'd like to chase
around Hoboken and take in the sights, I've never been here before."
"There's a Bairns' Restaurant," said Warble, shyly, "we might go there."