Known to our records, this affair must needs
Be judged the blackest. Nothing like, since Cain.
And then, again----

But, pshaw! coming to look at you, I see
You're one of those odd folks who don't agree
With _any_ body. _You_ are not to pass
On these high questions; plainly, you're an ass.
I'd like to have you on the stand a minute!
You'd think the deuce was in it!
_I'd_ shake the humdrums out of you, I guess!
You'd presently confess
You thought that No was Yes.
It's just your sort--provided there's no hurry--
We like to worry.
In twenty minutes, Sir, you wouldn't know
Your father from JIM CROW,
Or your illiterate self from LINDLEY MURRAY!
And now then, dunce,
Please move your boots, at once!
If 'twere not for some twinges of the gout,
I'd _kick_ you out!

* * * * *

[Illustration: A NEAT TURN

_Mrs. Twigg_. "GOOD GRACIOUS! JOHN--YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING!"

_Mr. Twigg_. "NORADROP, MY DEAR, _hic_, NORADROP. I'VE ONLY COME UP