"I think he's magnificent!" cried Miss Lady, trying to hold Prince
down to a walk. "I adore people who do great things and amount to
something."

"All of which I suppose is meant to reflect on a poor devil who
doesn't do things and doesn't amount to anything?"

"I never said so."

"See here," said Donald whimsically, "for two weeks you have been
getting me _not_ to do things. When I think of all the things I have
promised you, I can feel my hair turning white. Having polished me off
on the don'ts, you aren't going to begin on the do's, are you?"

"Indeed I am. Does Doctor Queerington really think you could be a
writer?"

"He has been after me about it ever since I was a youngster. I'm
always scribbling at something, but there is nothing in it. Besides,"
he added with a smile, "I'm going to be a farmer."

Miss Lady threw back her head and laughed:

"He wants to be a farmer
And with the farmers stand
The hay seed on his forehead
And a rake within his hand."

"Oh! Don Morley, one minute it's the Orient, the next it's literature,
and the next a farm; you don't know what you want!"