They are fools who go and tell
Wisely has the poet sung.
Man may hold all sorts of jobs
If he'll only hold his tongue.

"Are you a tramp?" I asked him.

"_A tramp!_" he said, "that's pretty good. I dare say I look like one."

Then he jumped up on the railing and began laughing so hard I was
afraid he'd fall backwards into the water. I told him he'd better look
out, but he only laughed more, and said I was a great kid. Then all of
a sudden he happened to think and he looked around to see if anyone was
coming. Then he said,

"Are you game to help me in a dark plot?"

Gee, I didn't know what to tell him. "It depends upon how dark it is,"
I said. Because, jiminy, I wanted to be careful and watch my step. But
that only made him laugh a lot. Then he said,

"Well, it isn't exactly a black plot, but it's a kind of a dark brown."

"One thing sure," I said, "you're not a tramp, I know that--I can
tell."

"You're a wise little gazabo," he said. "Would you really like to know
who I am?"

I told him sure I would.