"I say why don't you try?" replied the strange somebody.
"Try what?" queried Jimmieboy, who, not having spoken a word on the subject of drawing pictures, was quite sure that the question did not apply to that matter—in which certainly he was very much mistaken, as the strange somebody's next remark plainly showed.
"Try drawing pictures yourself?" said the voice.
"I can't draw," said Jimmieboy, peering over into the corner whence the voice came, to see who it was that had spoken.
"You can't tell unless you try," said the voice.
"A man might do a million things
If he would be less shy,
That all his life he never does,
Because he will not try.
"Why don't you try?"
"Who are you, anyhow?" asked Jimmieboy. "Tell me that, and maybe I will try."
"Why, you know me," said the voice. "I am the Quill-pen over here on your mamma's table. Don't you remember how you nearly drowned me in the ink yesterday?"
"I didn't want to drown you," said Jimmieboy, apologetically. "I wanted you to write a letter for me to my Uncle Periwinkle, asking him to send me everything he thought I'd like as soon as he could."