The patter of feet was on the stair,
As the Editor turned in his sanctum chair,
And said—for weary the day had been—
“Don’t let another intruder in.”
But scarce had he uttered the words, before
A face peered in at the half-closed door,
And a child sobbed out—“Sir, mother said
I should come and tell you that Dan is dead.”
“And pray who is ‘Dan’?” The streaming eyes
Looked questioning up, with a strange surprise: