"Of course you know best,"
Cried her knickers and vest,
"It would be a good plan though," they said,
" If before it grows light
We walk out in the night
Leaving ANGELINE FRIDAY in bed!"

So in separate pieces
They shook out their creases,
The socks clambered into the shoes,
Then they walked arm-in-arm,
Without raising alarm,
Down the shadowy drive of "The Yews."

When ANGELINE woke
She thought it a joke
Till her mother appeared the next morning:
"If you'd only be tidy,"
Sighed poor Mrs. Friday,
"They'd have never marched off without warning."

"There's nothing," she said,
"But to stay there in bed,
For we folk are respectable farmers,
And what would people say
If they saw you to-day
Walk to school in your third-best pyjamas?"
  So all day in bed
ANGIE buried her head
While she whispered, "Alas and alack!
I'll alter completely
And fold them so neatly
If only my clothes will come back."

And though nobody knows,
Still I rather suppose,
When morning creeps under the blind,
That close on her chair,
All folded with care,
A small heap of clothes she will find.

(P.S.—She did.)

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