'But that isn't your dreams, Chops?'
'No, miss; but I've often dreamt when a-carryin' o' you on this 'ere back o' mine that w'en you growed hup, and w'en I growed hup an' I'd saved a bit o' money like—you—you won't be angry, will you, Miss Lotty?'
'No, no, Chops; but it is nearly time for rehearsal, so be quick.'
'That I might lead you to the haltar, miss.'
Lotty burst into a childish fit of hearty laughter. Then, afraid she might have hurt his feelings, this strange infant prodigy grew suddenly serious, and patted Chops's brown, fat fingers.
'You're a good boy,' she said, 'but dreadfully foolish and funny. You won't mind me laughing, Chops, but you do look droll like that. Have you written some verses, Chops?'
'Oh yes. I began a whole pome, an' some day I'll mebbe finish it, like the Immortal Willum finished his'n.'
'And how does it begin?'
'It begins—ahem!—ahem!'
'What! begins "Hem, hem"?'