"'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay to
his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations,
Jee.'"
"There's thrilling information!" shouted the foreman. "That'll touch the
gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy
himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll use
it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show her to
him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill us. But
we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel weaker than
I did, and I wasn't strong before. Go down and set it all up."
Mr. Schofield rejoined with an injured air, and yet hopefully: "I'd like
to see what you think of the poetry--it seemed all right to me, but I
reckon you ain't ever the best judge of your own work. Shall I read it?"
The foreman only glanced at him in silence, and the young man took this
for assent. "I haven't made up any name for it yet."
"'O, the orphan boy stood on the hill,
The wind blew cold and very chill--'"
Glancing at his auditors, he was a trifle abashed to observe a glaze upon
the eyes of Mr. Parker, while a purple tide rose above his neck-band and
unnaturally distended his throat and temples. With a placative little
laugh, Mr. Schofield remarked: "I git the swing to her all right, I
reckon, but somehow it doesn't sound so kind of good as when I was writing
it." There was no response, and he went on hurriedly:
"'But there he saw the little rill--'"
The poet paused to say, with another amiable laugh: "It's sort of hard to
git out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em. It runs on
like this: "'--Little rill
That curved and spattered around the hill.'
"I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so?
"'And the orphan he stood there until
The wind and all gave him a chill;
And he sickened--'"
That day Ross read no more, for the tall printer, seemingly incapable of
coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his arms above his
head, and, his companions confidently looking to see him foam at the
mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs
waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor. Mr. Schofield fled.