THE TRUE ACCOUNT OF A QUARREL BETWEEN A MAN WE ALL KNOW AND A VERY OLD FAMILY
THE Man who thought about Proteids sat by the roadside, writing with an indelible pencil in a little notebook. And Spring, all in pink and white, came tripping by, and cried to him: ‘I will dance for you! Watch me dance!’ She danced very prettily, but the Man went on writing, and never looked at her once. So Spring, being young, burst into tears, and told her sister, Summer.
Summer said to herself: ‘Spring is very foolish to cry. Probably he does not like dancing. I will sing to him.’ She sang a beautiful sleepy song to him, but he never listened, being busy writing in his little note-book. Summer was indignant, and told her sister, Autumn.
Autumn said: ‘There are many good men who do not like dancing. I will give him some of my wine.’ So she went to the Man and offered him her purple wine, but he merely said, ‘I do not drink wine,’ and resumed his writing. Then Autumn was very angry indeed, and told her big brother, Winter, all that had passed.
Winter was an enormous fellow, with a dreadful roar and howl, and every time he moved, snowflakes came whirling from his flowing robes. ‘Show me the fellow,’ he bellowed, puffing out his cheeks. Then he saw the Man who thought about Proteids, still sitting by the roadside.
‘Do you know me?’ roared Winter, and the Man looked and his teeth chattered like dead men’s bones.
Then Winter seized him by the neck and whirled him round and round, and finally flung him over his left shoulder into space.
And the Man who thought about Proteids has not been seen since, but, the other day, a boy found the little note-book lying by the roadside.
AT THE ‘RED LION,’ RAMPLE STREET
RATHER late one Saturday evening, Bacchus walked into the ‘Red Lion Inn,’ at the corner of Rample Street. He said nothing, but looked at the landlord, who, on his part, was trying to discover the ‘company’ (meaning rank or station) of the new customer; so that he should know whether to open the door of the Private Bar or Best Room, or wave his hand in the direction of the Taproom: this is the great problem and test for all inn-keepers in England.