THE VERY TIRED GIRL
"Y-e-s," said the Political Economist.
"And so," mocked the Poet, "you are going to jump aboard and steer the young lady adroitly to some port of your own choosing?"
The older man's jaws tightened ominously. "No, by the Lord Almighty, that's just what I am not going to do!" he promised. "I'm going to help her sail to the port of her own choosing!"
The Poet began to rummage in his mind for adequate arguments. "Oh, allegorically," he conceded, "your scheme is utterly charming, but from any material, matrimonial point of view I should want to remind myself pretty hard that overwrought brains do not focus very easily on domestic interests, nor do arms which have tugged as you say at 'sheets' and 'tillers' curve very dimplingly around youngsters shoulders."
The Political Economist blew seven mighty smoke-puffs from his pipe.
"That would be the economic price I deserve to pay for not having arrived earlier on the scene," he said quietly.
The Poet began to chuckle. "You certainly are hard hit," he scoffed.
"Political Economy
Gone to rhyme with Hominy!
It's an exquisite scheme!"
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