A voice rang out behind them.
It was Jamie the Scotchman.
"Well, Ben, it is good to fly high. I infer that you expect to become a proverb poet, after the manner of Solomon. The people here will all be quoting you some day. It may be that you will be quoted in England and France. Ha! ha! ha! What good times," he added, "you two have together—dreaming! Well, it costs nothing to dream. There is no toll demanded of him who travels in the clouds. Move along, young Solomon, and let me sit down on the sea wall beside you. When you write a book of proverb poetry I hope I'll be living to read it. One don't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear—there's a proverb for you!—nor gather wisdom except by experience—there's another; and some folks do not get wisdom even from experience." He looked suspiciously toward Uncle Ben.
"Experience keeps a dear school," said Uncle Ben in a kindly way.
"And some people can learn of no other," added Silence Dogood.
"And some folks not even there," said Jamie the Scotchman.
The loons came semicircling along the sea wall, their necks aslant, and uttering cries in a mocking tone.
"Well, I declare, it makes the loons laugh—and no wonder!" said Jamie the Scotchman. He lighted his pipe, whose bowl was a piece of corncob, and whiffed away in silence for a time, holding up one knee in his clasped hands.
Silence Dogood surveyed his surroundings, which were ship cargoes.
"The empty bags do not stand up," he said.