"Of course I know that isn't all true, but he is like that, isn't he?"
"He is. He put me in first to-day."
"I know you really are fond of him."
"Lorblessyou—yes."
"That makes you my friend, too."
"Of course." I patted her hand. "That reminds me—as a friend I feel bound to warn you that there is a person about in the neighbourhood called Samuel Simpson who meditates an evil design upon you and yours. In short, a poem. In this he will liken you to the azalea, which I take to be a kind of shrubby plant."
"Yes?"
"Yes, well, all I want to say is, if he comes round with the hat afterwards, don't put anything in."
"Poor man," smiled Dahlia. "That's his living, isn't it?"
"Yes. That's why I say don't put anything in."