Thee, thee, my sheet!"

Herrick, to his shroud, my dear! A poet who has the rare gift of being
both light and spiritual in the same breath. Read Herrick at his gravest,
when you need cheering; you will always find him helpful.

MRS. G. Then--will you read him to me to-night, William?

GLADSTONE. Why, certainly, my love, if you wish.

(_He stoops and kisses her_.)

MRS. G. (_speaking very gently_). I was waiting for that.

GLADSTONE. And I was waiting--for what you have to say.

MRS. G. I can say nothing.

GLADSTONE. Why, nothing?

MRS. G. Because I can't be sure of you, my dear. You've done this before.

GLADSTONE. This time it has been done for me. My own say in the matter has
been merely to acquiesce.

MRS. G. Ah! so you say! And others--others may say it for you; but--

GLADSTONE. Anno Domini says it, my dear.

MRS. G. Anno Domini has been saying it for the last twenty years. Much