'Thank you very much, but Father told us we ought never to take anything
from strangers.'

'That's a nasty one,' said the lady--she didn't talk a bit like a real
lady, but more like a jolly sort of grown-up boy in a dress and hat--'a
very nasty one! But don't you think as Noel and I are both poets I might
be considered a sort of relation? You've heard of brother poets,
haven't you? Don't you think Noel and I are aunt and nephew poets, or
some relationship of that kind?'

I didn't know what to say, and she went on--

'It's awfully straight of you to stick to what your Father tells you,
but look here, you take the shillings, and here's my card. When you get
home tell your Father all about it, and if he says No, you can just
bring the shillings back to me.'

So we took the shillings, and she shook hands with us and said, 'Good-
bye, and good hunting!'

We did tell Father about it, and he said it was all right, and when he
looked at the card he told us we were highly honoured, for the lady
wrote better poetry than any other lady alive now. We had never heard of
her, and she seemed much too jolly for a poet. Good old Kipling! We
owe him those two shillings, as well as the Jungle books!



CHAPTER 5
THE POET AND THE EDITOR