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a Christmas tree when I got lost in e snow-storm. In little
bags. I punched a hole in mine. Ven ve old fings all rolled
down e register, splash! Lill says somebody cried. It was
n’t Lill, and it was n’t Grandma, either. It must have been
Zherusalem.

That ’s enough.

No. 3.— Mar-Lar-sis Canby.

First you hotten it; ven you warm it; ven you pop some
popped corn.

So ven you stick it all into a little muss. And nuts too.
Once I candy-pulled some of my own. But when I| got it
candy-pulled all up, it wasn’t vere. Lill says I eat it. But
Lill never did know much.

I like mar-lar-sis candy. I like it better than I do to give
my money to ve negroes. Sometimes vey bake rounds like
doughnuts, with holes in the middle. I don’t mean in e ne-
groes but in e candy, don’t you see?

Once Nate and me and Zherusalem we had a candy-pull
when Nate was sick. Over at Nate’s. But Nate was n’t any
better. And Zherusalem felled in. All over. So I stuck to
ve kitchen floor; on the bottoms of my shoes, you know.
And I kept a sticking. So Nate’s mother she would n’t
laugh, because she had to wash ve floor. But me and Nate
and Zherusalem we laughed when Zherusalem falled in.
And if vere’s any more about mar-lar-sis candy, I don’t
know it.