“Wouldn’t I? I’ll come if you invite me.”
“I would, of course—you know. But I’m afraid it might spoil everything.”
“I’ll risk it. Suppose I go and try to make your father like me, even though I’m only a flunky.”
“If you want to try it——”
“Do you invite me?”
“Certainly. But—but——”
“It’s settled then. We’ll see what can be done to cure your father of this sudden complaint. Now let’s talk of something else.”
While these two walked slowly over the soft carpet of sand Mr. Halfaman Daisy was repairing to the camp of Jeddo the Crow, swinging along with an exalted stride. As he strode along he lifted his voice in song, or, rather, dropped it out of one corner of his mouth, to convince himself that his head was still unbowed. And thus he sang the ninety-seventh and the hundred-and-sixth stanzas of his favorite lay:
“Chi to the Kerry Woman’s out in Sac