Teasingly, and answer made—
“I’m too old—I don’t kiss girls.”
Ten years pass, and Marguerite
Smiles as Will kneels at her feet,
Gazing fondly in her eyes,
Praying, “Won’t you kiss me, sweet?”
’Rite is seventeen to-day,
With her birthday ring she toys
For a moment, then replies:
“I’m too old—I don’t kiss boys.”