Mr. Charley smiled a serene smile of the Flower Kingdom pattern.
“God bless the Empress Dowager!” Mr. Poet said. Both raised their wine.
“The load is too heavy for you. You are killing yourself. I can’t bear to see it. My friend, obey me! Let me help you! Don’t leave till I come back!”
The poet, hurried for his questionable buggy and horse. He cracked his whip—he never whips the horse, but he carries it for fashion’s sake, as he remarks—when Mr. Charley protested, “Me oll-righ, you savvy!”
The Chinaman was dumbfounded, for the poet was unknown to him.
Mr. Heine pushed him in.
When he leaped up, he noticed his horse in tender tone:
“Go on, baby!”
“What a goody-goody! His act never parts from poetry, however,” I said.
I was simply dying for an opportunity to explode my good heart, when I invited one tramp to my Willow Cottage.