'Well, sir, I have heard of men making sacrifices for their wives, but of all the cruel....'
'Please don't, Gibbs. It does no good. And Mrs. Rondel's motive is a good one.'
'Of course, sir, I cannot presume—and yet, if it wouldn't be presuming, I should like to know why you are making this great, I may say this noble, sacrifice?'
'Well, Gibbs, we're old friends, and I'll tell you some day, but I hardly feel up to it to-day.'
'Of course not, sir, of course not—it's only natural,' said Gibbs tenderly, while the scissors once more took up the conversation.
[THE DONKEY THAT LOVED A STAR]
'That is how the donkey tells his love!' I said one day, with intent to be funny, as the prolonged love-whoop of a distant donkey was heard in the land.
'Don't be too ready to laugh at donkeys,' said my friend. 'For,' he continued, 'even donkeys have their dreams. Perhaps, indeed, the most beautiful dreams are dreamed by donkeys.'
'Indeed,' I said, 'and now that I think of it, I remember to have said that most dreamers are donkeys, though I never expected so scientific a corroboration of a fleeting jest.'
Now, my friend is an eminent scientist and poet in one, a serious combination; and he took my remarks with seriousness at once scientific and poetic.