It did seem very dull in
the rain, too, to keep pattering away at the glass in that stupid
fashion.
And so I leaned back in my chair, and watched Bridget fill the tea-kettle
and set it over the fire.
"Good!" said I; "Bridget, there's no music on a dull day like the cheery
singing of the tea-kettle."
And Biddy laughed, as she went out, and I leaned back again, and closed
my eyes. All at once I heard a keen, piping voice, saying,
"Hum--hum! Simmer! We'll soon have things a-going."
The sound seemed to come up out of the tea-kettle spout. I was so
surprised that I rubbed my eyes and looked around. There was the
tea-kettle, but I could hear no sound from it. Closing my eyes again, I
heard it begin,
"Simmer, simmer, hum, hum, now we'll have things a-going. Hot fire, this!
Simmer, simmer, hum, hum, simmer. There's nothing like contentment," it
went on. "But it's a little hard to sit here and simmer, simmer, simmer
forever. But I keep on singing, and I am happy. There's my sister, the
tea-pot. Bridget always keeps her bright. She goes into the best society,
sits by the side of the china cups on the tea-tray that has flowers
painted on it; vain little thing is my sister tea-pot! Dreadful proud of
her graceful waist.
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