"Ah! I thought I should find a customer between Michaelmas and May Day," cried Jorumgander the Younger, quite cheerfully. "The beauty of these pens is that they never tell a story."
"But suppose you want to write a story?"
"That is a different thing. If you have the ability to write a story you won't want a Magic Pen. These pens are only for every-day use. For example: if you want to write to your charwoman to tell her you have got the toothache, and you haven't got the toothache, the Magic Pen refuses to lend itself to telling a—a——"
"Crammer," suggested Willie.
"Crammer. Thank you. I don't know what it means, but crammer is the correct word. The Magic Pen will simplify the truth whether you wish to tell it or not."
"I do not understand," whispered Maude.
"Let me try to explain," said Jorumgander the Younger politely. "The Magic Pen will only write exactly what you think—what is in your mind, what you ought to say, whether you wish to or not."
"A very useful article, I am sure," said the Zankiwank. "I gave six dozen away last Christmas, but nobody used them after a few days, and I can't think why."
"Ah!" sighed Jorumgander the Younger, "and I have had all my stock returned on my hands. The first day I opened my shop I sold more than I can remember. And the next morning all the purchasers came and wanted their money back. They said if they wanted to tell the truth, they knew how to do it, and did not want to be taught by an evil-disposed nib. But I am afraid they were not speaking the truth then, at any rate. Here, let me make you a present of one a-piece, and you can write and tell me all about yourselves when you go home. Meanwhile, as the streets are crowded, and our policeman is not looking, let us sing a quiet song to celebrate the event."
We sing of the Magic Pen
That never tells a story,
That in the hands of men
Would lead them on to glory.
For what you ought to do,
And you should all be saying,
In fact of all things true
This pen will be bewraying.