The poet looked at him reflectively.
"They ask you then, do they?"
"'Ess, sir, fower or five on 'em, sir. But I wants none on 'em, sir, an' I tells 'em straight, sir."
The poet sighed.
"It must save a lot of trouble to—when the suggestion comes from the fairer side."
The shepherd wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Fower or five on 'em," he observed, meditatively.
"Dear, dear, what a—what a conqueror of hearts you must be!"
The shepherd looked at him a little dubiously.