And said, in a tone most decided though mild,
"Come! I'll trouble you just to hand over that child!"

The Demoniac crowd
In an instant seemed cowed;
Not one of the crew volunteered a reply,
All shrunk from the glance of that keen-flashing eye,
Save one horrid Humgruffin, who seemed by his talk,
And the airs he assumed, to be cock of the walk.
He quailed not before it, but saucily met it,
And as saucily said, "Don't you wish you may get it?"

My goodness!--the look that the old Palmer gave!
And his frown!--'twas quite dreadful to witness--"Why, slave!
You rascal!" quoth he,
"This language to ME!
At once, Mr. Nicholas! down on your knee,
And hand me that curly-wigged boy!--I command it--
Come!--none of your nonsense!--you know I won't stand it."

Old Nicholas trembled,--he shook in his shoes,
And seemed half inclined, but afraid, to refuse.
"Well, Cuthbert," said he,
"If so it must be,
For you've had your own way from the first time I knew ye;--
Take your curly-wigged brat, and much good may he do ye!
But I'll have in exchange"--here his eye flashed with rage--
"That chap with the buttons--he _gave me_ the Page!"

"Come, come," the saint answered, "you very well know