The moral I need scarce recite:
Before you leap
Just take a peep
To see where you are going."

Buddie, however, clung to her former opinion. "I like _Sammy Patch_ the
best," said she.

"That," rejoined the singer, "is a matter of taste, as the donkey said
to the horse who preferred hay to thistles. Usually the public likes
best the very piece the composer himself cares least about. So wherever
I go I hear, 'Oh, Professor, do sing us that beautiful song about Sammy
Patch.' And I can't poke my head inside the Thistle Club but some donkey
bawls out, 'Here's Bray! Now we'll have a song. Sing us _Sammy Patch_,
old fellow.' Really, I've sung that song so many times I'm tired of the
sound of it."

"It must be nice to be such a favorite," said Buddie.

"Suppose we go up to the Corner and see what's stirring," suggested the
Donkey, with a yawn.

"Oh, are _you_ going up to the Corner, too?" cried Buddie. "I am to meet
the Rabbit there at two o'clock. I hope it isn't late."

The Donkey glanced skyward.

"It isn't noon yet," said he.

"How do you tell time?" inquired Buddie.