"Oh, that's only a figure of speech," answered the would-be poet loftily, and then he continued:
"I feel I can sail anywhere,
For I am monarch of the air!"
"I feel I can sail anywhere,
For I am monarch of the air!"
"Good for you!" put in Sam, who was present. "For A, No. 1, first-grade poetry apply to Songbird every time."
"There are sixteen verses in all," went on the poet, eagerly. "The next one begins——"
"Sorry, there goes the supper bell!" interrupted Tom. "Come on, we've got to eat, even if we miss the finest poem in the universe."
"I—er—I didn't hear any bell," answered Songbird.
"You didn't?" cried Tom, innocently. "Well! well! Come on in and see anyway!" And he dragged the would-be poet along and forced him into a crowd of students. "Guess I was mistaken," he said soberly. "Too bad!" And off he, ran, and Sam ran after him.
"Well, it wasn't half bad," said the youngest Rover.
"That's true, Sam," returned Tom, and then he added with a sudden broad grin: "But how about an egg that was only half bad—would you want to eat it? Some day Songbird may write real poetry—but not yet."