"I've only done four lines."
"Let's have them."
"The beetling beetle-crushing baulks of boots
Crashed on their thunderous way, while men-at-arms,
Who knew no fear, shuddered and crossed themselves,
And little children whimpered with a fright
Too fierce for tears."
"Very good," said I. "Now you shall have mine.
I thought they were stars,
And I know they were shining,
But so brightly. The daintiest things that were ever created.
They danced on my heart from the moment I saw them,
But so lightly
That while they were there my heart became lighter,
Yet on it they made an enduring impression,
Lasting and deep.
Fairies' steps may be slighter,
But so slightly.
You'll think I am mad, but I'm only a blighter.
I thought they were stars, And I know they were shining."
"Thank you very much. I didn't know you were a poet."
"Nor was I till I entered your service," said I.
So presently we came to Laipnik. I stopped outside the little town, put on my cap, and settled the girl on the back seat. Five minutes later we rolled up to the hotel.
On the steps stood a stout man with a serious face, looking suspiciously at the cigar he had just lighted.
"Hullo, Uncle Dick," said my mistress.