"Sir Simon had money," stuttered Pope, much ruffled, and backing before the small fury who faced him. "He slept in this room, and could easily have gone upstairs, when everyone was quiet, to kill Sir Simon.
"He did nothing of the sort, Pope. I know Mr. Gowrie better than you do, and he is incapable of such wickedness."
"It was Mr. Gowrie who brought you here, wasn't it, Elspeth?"
"Yes," said the girl listlessly, and all the light died out of her eyes, "a year ago."
"I was away at that time," chattered Pope setting down his lantern, and producing a cheap cigarette. "Mother placed me in an office; but I could not stand so sordid a life," he added with an affected shudder. "It was not the life for a poet, so I came back, and here I can write glorious verse."
"So you think," said Elspeth, who had read Pope's productions, and thought very little of them. "But you would be much better earning your own bread and butter, than living on your mother."
"They have brought a genius into the world, and it is their glorious duty to support him," said Pope grandiloquently. "When I am Poet Laureate, I'll make it up to them."
Elspeth shrugged her spare shoulders and went resignedly about her work. It was impossible to make Pope think himself any other but the most famous poet in the world, and his conceit amounted to a positive mania. Even as Elspeth moved away, the young man commenced to mouth one of his bombastic poems, devoid of grammar or sense, and Elspeth felt inclined to stop her ears, so vile was the rhythm. This she did not do, having a vivid recollection of having suffered at Pope's hands, when she had once betrayed disgust. The poet was mild enough usually, but when his vanity was touched he grew positively dangerous, and went--as the saying goes--baresark. Knowing his eccentricities, Elspeth, therefore, paid no attention to the verses, but worked on quietly, while Pope, fancying himself a Homer at the least, walked up and down declaiming turgid blank verse. Finally, finding that Elspeth did not applaud, he stopped and looked at her spitefully.
"Genius is wasted on you, Elspeth."
"Entirely," she answered coolly. "Why didn't you wipe your boots before you come in, Pope. They are covered with red mud. You have been to the creek at the back of the house."