"I never thought of it in that way," said Jimmieboy.
"Ah!" ejaculated the Blank-book. "Now that is really funny, because I don't see how you could think of it in any other way."
"I don't see anything funny about that," began Jimmieboy.
"Oh dear!" sighed the Blank-book. "We never shall agree, except that I am willing to believe that you know more about nonsense than I do. Perhaps you can explain this poem to me. I dreamt my poet wrote this on my twelfth page. It was called 'A Plane Tale:'
"'I used to be so surly, that
All men avoided me;
But now I am a diplomat,
Of wondrous suavity.
"'I met a carpenter one night,
Who wore a dotted vest;
And when I asked if that was right,
He told me to go West.
"'I seized his saw and brandished it,
As fiercely as I could,
And told him, with much show of wit,
I thought he was no good.
"'At that he looked me in the face,
And said my tone was gruff;
My manner lacked a needed grace,
In every way was rough.
"'He seized and laid me on a plank,
He gave a little cough;
And then, although my spirits sank,
He planed me wholly off!
"'And ever since that painful night,
When he so treated me,
I've been as polished, smooth a wight,
As any one can be.'"
"There isn't much sense in that," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, now, I think there is," said the Blank-book. "There's a moral to that. Two of 'em. One's mind your own business. If the carpenter wanted to wear a dotted vest it was nobody's affair. The other moral is, a little plane speaking goes a great way."
"Oh, what a joke!" cried Jimmieboy.
"I didn't make any joke," retorted the Blank-book, his Russia-leather cover getting red as a beet.
"Yes, you did, too," returned Jimmieboy. "Plane and plain—don't you see? P-l-a-n-e and p-l-a-i-n."