"No, tell me now. What do you mean?"
"I really meant nothing at all, but you see we must always wait on others, and so I thought that we might have a quarter of an hour to ourselves. I only wanted to tell you that you are the light of my life, my happiness. When I look at you, and listen to you, I'd like to do--I don't know what, and I can't tell."
"It isn't necessary, either; and let me tell you, this is very wicked of you."
"Is it wicked that I love you to distraction?"
"Yes, and doubly wicked that you fooled me here and made me believe that you had something good to tell me."
"And so I have," said Baum, quickly; "forgive me for what I've done; if you do, I'll tell you the rest."
"Yes, I'll forgive you, but make haste."
"Well," said Baum with great composure, "it's simply this. He who stands at the manger and doesn't eat, is a fool. Do you understand me?"
"Of course; it doesn't take much to know that."
"Yes, but you don't take my meaning. A court like this is a full manger, and you'll be a great fool if you go away without having taken enough to satisfy yourself and your child for life."