FAIRIES I HAVE MET
Then the Man in the Thin Coat was in despair. He pushed the paper away from him and threw himself back in his chair.
"There is something very serious the matter with me," he said to himself. He did not notice that another man had come up to the table and was gathering together the sheets of paper that lay on it. This was the person who paid the Man in the Thin Coat for doing his sums for him. He had a round face and a big waistcoat.
"Come, come! what's this?" he said, looking at the sheets of paper. Poetry, I declare! So you're a poet, are you? That's all very well, but I don't pay you to write poetry."
The poor Man in the Thin Coat looked very much disturbed. When you come to think of it, it is a disturbing thing to find you are writing poetry when you imagine you are doing sums.
"I couldn't help it," he said meekly.
"Yes, yes, that's the excuse they all make," said the Man with the Big Waistcoat. Then he took up the papers and began to read. There was silence in the room while he was reading the poem that the Man in the Thin Coat had written by mistake; every one left off working, and watched with great interest to see what would happen. The silence lasted for some time.
"Dear me!" said the Man with the Big Waistcoat at last. "This is a very beautiful poem?"
Then he began to read aloud.
The poem was about the summer; about the sunshine and the blue sky and the singing larks that were far away
92
