John smiled. He had recovered a little from his embarrassment.
"Why, old Mr. Hunt refuses to pay his taxes every year; but they make him do it, just the same."
The girls laughed.
"Oh, but John Hampden protested against a great act of tyranny," said Margaret. "He must have been very brave to do it, or Gray wouldn't have put him in his poem."
"Such a lovely poem!" sighed Miss Kirke. "I've heard that the author was seven years writing it."
"Seven years!" John echoed. "Well!"
"He kept pruning it, and re-writing some of the verses," Margaret explained. "He wanted to make it a perfect poem."
"It's very fine," said John. Then he added, blushingly, "If I had any fields to keep tyrants away from, I'd like to be a village Hampden myself, even if I couldn't become famous like the other one."
"Oh, I don't think one need take that line of the poem literally," said Margaret. "I like to have poetry suggest things to me that are not found in the mere words. That is why I'm so fond of Shakespeare—he admits of so many interpretations. Perhaps," she went on, softly and timidly, "if we keep the little tyrants of selfishness and wickedness away from our hearts, we can all become village Hampdens. Such things are often harder to drive away than human tyrants—don't you think so?"
"Yes," replied John, gravely, "I'm sure it is true—though I've had no contests with human tyrants."