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PHANTASMAGORIA.
49
"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
To mutter some excuse.
"Who can have patience with a man
That's got no more discretion than
An idiotic goose?
"To keep me waiting here, instead
Of telling me at once
That this was not the house!" he said.
"There, that'll do—be off to bed!
Don't gape like that, you dunce!"
"It's very fine to throw the blame
On me in such a fashion!
Why didn't you enquire my name
The very minute that you came?"
I answered in a passion.
