[Illustration: "Struggling with a long printed Panorama."]

_Miss Trotter_. Well, we came up on the cars in front of yours. We've
taken rooms at the hotel up here. Poppa reckoned the air would be kind
of fresher on the top of this mountain, and I don't believe but what
he's right either. I guess I shall want another hairpin through _my_
hat. And are you still going around with Mr. PODBURY? As inseparable
as ever, I presume?

_Culch._ Er--_about_ as inseparable. That is, we are still travelling
together--only, on this particular afternoon--

_Miss T._ He went and got mislaid? I see. He used to stray
considerable over in Germany, didn't he? Well, I'm real pleased to see
_you_ anyway. And how's the poetry been panning out? I hope you've had
a pretty good yield of sonnets?

_Culch._ (_to himself_). She's really grown distinctly prettier.
She might show a little more _feeling_, though, considering we were
almost, if not quite--(_Aloud._) So you remember my poor poems? I'm
afraid I have not been very--er--prolific of late.

_Miss T._ You don't say! I should think you'd have had one to show for
every day, with the date to it, like a new-laid egg.

_Culch._ Birds don't lay--er--I mean they don't _sing_, in the dark.
My light has been--er--lacking of late.

_Miss T._ If that's intended for me, you ought to begin chirping right
away. But you're not going to tell me you've been "lounjun round en