"The wind and the beam loved the rose, And the roses loved one: For who recks the——"
"What's that?" says Tommy.
"What's what?"
"You aren't reading it right, are you?"
"Certainly I am. Why?"
"I don't believe a beam of wood could love anything," says Tommy; "it's too heavy."
"It doesn't mean a beam of wood."
"Doesn't it?" staring up into her face. "What's it mean, then—'The beam that is in thine own eye?'"
He is now examining her own eye with great interest. As usual, Tommy is strong in Bible lore.
"I have no beam in my eye, I hope," says Joyce, laughing; "and, at all events, it doesn't mean that either. The poet who wrote this meant a sunbeam."