No; to the farm guests are swarming like midges.—
H’m, to turn back now perhaps would be wisest.
[Draws back his leg.
Still they must titter behind your back,
And whisper so that it burns right through you.
[Moves a few steps away from the fence, and begins absently plucking leaves.
Ah, if I’d only a good strong dram now.
Or if I could pass to and fro unseen.—
Or were I unknown.—Something proper and strong
Were the best thing of all, for the laughter don’t bite then.