"You mean 'stately,' you know," interrupted Napoleon—somewhat rudely, Priscilla thought. Yet he was quite within his rights, for Priscilla had not yet learned that a critic always knows what you mean to say much better than you do yourself.
"No, I don't mean 'stately,'" said Priscilla, "I mean 'stealthy,' the way a horse goes on sand. You go and gallop on the sea-shore and you'll find out."
I've listened quite a pennyworth now."
"He rides him forth across the sand,
Upon a stealthy steed,
And when he sails upon the sea,
He plays upon a reed!"
"Great soft he was," cried Napoleon Smith; "and if ever I hear you say that I did such a thing——"
Priscilla hurried on more quickly than ever.
"In all the world there's none can do
The deeds that he hath done:
When he hath slain his enemies,
Then he comes back alone."
"That's better!" said Napoleon, nodding encouragement. "At any rate it isn't long. Now, give me my penny."
"Shan't," said Priscilla, the pride of successful achievement swelling in her breast; "besides, it isn't Saturday yet, and you've only listened to three verses anyway. You will have to listen to ever so much more than that before you get a penny."