Bearing I know not whom--or coarse carousers,
Or damsels fairer than the moss-rose bud--
And still more sick at having bits of mud
Daubed on my new dress-trousers;

I went to dinner by the Underground
And every time the carriage stopped or started
Clung to my neighbour very tightly round
The neck till at Sloane Square his collar parted.
I saw my hostess glancing at my socks,
Surprised perhaps at so much clay's adherence
And, still unnerved by those infernal shocks,
Said, "I was working in my window-box;
Excuse my soiled appearance."

But in the morn I found a silent square
And one tall house with all the windows shuttered,
The mansion of the Marquis of Mayfair,
And "Here shall be the counter-stroke," I muttered;
"Shall not the noble Marquis and his kin
Make feast to-night in his superb refectory,
And then go on to see 'The Purple Sin'?
They shall." I sought a taxi-garage in
The Telephone Directory.

"Ho, there!" I cried within the wooden hutch;
"Hammersmith House--a most absurd dilemma--
His lordship's motor-cars have strained a clutch,
And taxis are required at 8 pip emma
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