“Lie down,” protested Tom. “Hide the pencils, Dan.”
But Alf went over to the table and dumped Dan out of his seat.
“Everyone very quiet now, please, while the muse gets busy. I feel the spell coming on.”
Dan retired to the window seat, where he and Tom uttered gibes while Alf’s pencil scratched on the paper.
“Doesn’t he remind you of Tennyson—not?” inquired Tom.
“Looks to me more like Milton,” Dan opined thoughtfully.
“I’ll bet that was a dandy line! Alf, you aren’t holding your mouth quite right. A little more curl on the left, please.”
“Bright and sparkling, showing the teeth,” advised Dan.
But Alf wrote on, supremely indifferent to interruptions, and at last dropped his pencil with a smile of triumph.
“Just you listen to this!” he cried.