"Go on," I commanded kindly.

"'Fierth broke he forth,'" lisped the boy.

"Louder. Put some spirit in it," I cried. "'Fierce broke he forth!'"
And my crutch beat the floor.

"'Fierth broke he forth, and durtht thou then to bared----"

"To beard," I corrected.

"'Bared the lion in hith den--the Doog-dug-lath----'" Abraham stopped
and took a long breath. I just gazed at him.

"'In hith hall,'" he shouted. "'And h-o-p-hop-e-s-t-hopest thou then
unthscathed to go?'"

The boy's knees began to bend under him, and he was reaching a long, thin
arm out behind hunting for the bench. He was fleeing. I knew it. I
warned him.

"No--go on--read on."

Abraham sighed and drew his sleeve across his mouth from the elbow to the
tips of his fingers. Then he sang:

"'Noby--Thent Bride--ofBoth--wellno--updraw--bridgegrooms--whatward--erho
--lettheportculluthfall!'"