yearning for solitude? However, even amid the talkative circle round
the supper-table, Missy felt uplifted and strangely remote.

"Why aren't you eating your supper, Missy? Just look at that wasted
good meat!"

"Meat," though a good rhyme for "street,' would not work well.
"Neat"--"fleet"--Ah! "Fleet!"

Immediately after supper, followed by the inquisitive Poppylinda,
Missy took her poem out to the comparative solitude of the back
porch steps. It was very sweet and still out there, the sun sinking
blood-red over the cherry trees. With no difficulty at all, she went
on, inspired:


--Main Street?

The gallant young Doctor in his motor so fleet!
So flashing his eye and so stately his form
That the bride's sinking heart with delight did grow warm.
But the poor craven bridegroom said never a word;
And the parent so proud did champ in her woe.

The knight snatched her swiftly into the Ford,
And she smiled as he steered adown the Boulevard;
Then away they did race until soon lost to view,
And all knew 'twas best for these lovers so true.
For where, tell me where, would have gone that bride's bliss?
Who flouts at true love all true happiness must miss!