"Poetry?"
"I dunno as it's that--after the remarks you passed about that leetle piece I sent to the Tribune."
"You sent it? Of all the nerve----! Did they print it?"
Smoky Jack shook his head.
"Never expected they would," he admitted mournfully. "I won't deny that it was kind o'----"
"Slushy?" hazarded Mintie.
"Wal--yes. You'd made all sorts of a dodgasted fool outer me."
"Yer father and mother done that."
"I've said as much to Maw, many's the time. 'Maw' I'd say, 'I ain't a masterpiece--and I know it.' But las' Sunday night I was inspired."
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Mintie frowned. With a shy glance and heightened colour the man who had been inspired whispered softly--