"'Because your son's nose was at the hole in my blue coach!' says I, as plain as if he hadna been a minister, I was that mad. For it was my coach, an' a bonny-like thing gin a boy couldna shoot at a hole in his ain blue coach! Noo, faither, mind there was to be nae lickin' gin I telt ye the truth!"
There was no licking—which, if you know my wife, you will find no difficulty in believing.
IV
THE BIOGRAPHY OF AN "INEFFICIENT"
White as early roses, girt by daffodillies,
Gleam the feet of maidens moving rhythmically,
Roses of the mountains, flowers of the valley,
Hill rose and plain rose and white vale lilies.
Dewy in the meadow lands, clover blossoms mellow
Lift their heads of red and white to the bride's adorning;
Sweetly in the sky-realms all the summer morning,
Joyeth the skylark and calleth his fellow.
In the well-known precincts, lo the wilding treasure
Glows for marriage merriment in my sweetheart's gardens,
Welcoming her joy-day, tenderest of wardens—
Heart's pride and love's life and all eyes' pleasure.
Bride among the bridesmaids, lily clad in whiteness,
She cometh to the twining none may twain in sunder;
While to marriage merriment wakes the organ's thunder,
And the Lord doth give us all His heavenly brightness.
Then like early roses, girt by daffodillies,
Goes the troop of maidens, moving rhythmically,
Roses of the mountains, flowers of the valley,
Hill rose and plain rose and white vale lilies.