outside the snowflakes began for to flutter
       far at sea the ships were sailing with the seamen
     not another word did angel nanny utter
       her grandsire chuckled and pledged the whisky demon

     up spake the second man he was worn and weary
       tears washed his face which otherwise was pasty
     she loved her parents who commuted on the erie
       brother im afraid you struck a trifle hasty

     she came to see you all her pretty duds on
       bringing christmas posies from her mothers garden
     riding in the tunnel underneath the hudson
       brother was it rum caused your heart to harden——­

“What on earth is there funny in that?” said Mrs. Mifflin.  “Poor little lamb, I think it was terrible.”

“There’s more of it,” cried Roger, and opened his mouth to continue.

“No more, thank you,” said Helen.  “There ought to be a fine for using the meter of Love in the Valley that way.  I’m going out to market so if the bell rings you’ll have to answer it.”

Roger added the Archy scrapbook to Miss Titania’s shelf, and went on browsing over the volumes he had collected.

“The Nigger of the Narcissus,” he said to himself, “for even if she doesn’t read the story perhaps she’ll read the preface, which not marble nor the monuments of princes will outlive.  Dickens’ Christmas Stories to introduce her to Mrs. Lirriper, the queen of landladies.  Publishers tell me that Norfolk Street, Strand, is best known for the famous literary agent that has his office there, but I wonder how many of them know that that was where Mrs. Lirriper had her immortal lodgings?  The Notebooks of Samuel Butler, just to give her a little intellectual jazz.  The Wrong Box, because it’s the best farce in the language.  Travels with a Donkey, to show her what good writing is like.  The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to give her a sense of pity for human woes—­wait a minute, though:  that’s a pretty broad book for young ladies.  I guess we’ll put it aside and see what else there is.  Some of Mr. Mosher’s catalogues:  fine! they’ll show her the true spirit of what one book-lover calls biblio-bliss.  Walking-Stick Papers—­yes, there are still good essayists running around.  A bound file of The Publishers’ Weekly to give her a smack of trade matters.  Jo’s Boys in case she needs a little relaxation.  The Lays of Ancient Rome and Austin Dobson to show her some good poetry.  I wonder if they give them The Lays to read in school nowadays?  I have a horrible fear they are brought up on the battle of Salamis and the brutal redcoats of ’76.  And now we’ll be exceptionally subtle:  we’ll stick in a Robert Chambers to see if she falls for it.”

He viewed the shelf with pride.  “Not bad,” he said to himself.  “I’ll just add this Leonard Merrick, Whispers about Women, to amuse her.  I bet that title will start her guessing.  Helen will say I ought to have included the Bible, but I’ll omit it on purpose, just to see whether the girl misses it.”