anything (the verses seemed to me perfect), but because, after the third
line, the tail-end of each successive one would go curving upward and
making it plain to all the world that the whole thing had been written
with a want of adherence to the horizontal--a thing which I could not
bear to see.

The third sheet also came out crooked, but I determined to make it do.
In my verses I congratulated Grandmamma, wished her many happy returns,
and concluded thus:

"Endeavouring you to please and cheer,
We love you like our Mother dear."

This seemed to me not bad, yet it offended my ear somehow.

"Lo-ve you li-ike our Mo-ther dear," I repeated to myself. "What other
rhyme could I use instead of 'dear'? Fear? Steer? Well, it must go at
that. At least the verses are better than Karl Ivanitch's."

Accordingly I added the last verse to the rest. Then I went into
our bedroom and recited the whole poem aloud with much feeling and
gesticulation. The verses were altogether guiltless of metre, but I
did not stop to consider that. Yet the last one displeased me more than
ever. As I sat on my bed I thought:

"Why on earth did I write 'like our Mother dear'? She is not here, and
therefore she need never have been mentioned. True, I love and respect
Grandmamma, but she is not quite the same as--Why DID I write that?
What did I go and tell a lie for? They may be verses only, yet I needn't
quite have done that."