“All the laws he must obey,
        Now in force and now repealed,
     Shift in eyes that shift as they—­

“‘Shift as they,’ ‘shift as they,’” mused Mr. Moggridge.  “Let me see—­”

    ‘Till alike with kisses sealed.’

“That was it.  With another verse, and a little polishing, I will take it to Geraldine and ask her—­”

At this point the poet glanced down the street, and, to his surprise, beheld Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys advancing towards him.

“Good-morning,” she nodded with a charming smile, “I was coming to look for you.  I have a favour to ask.”

“A favour?  Is it the—?”

“Well, it’s rather prosaic for the—­” she laughed.  “In fact, it’s tea.”

“Tea?”

“Yes.  It’s rather a long story; but it comes to this.  You see, Fred is very particular about the tea he drinks.”

“Indeed?”

“It’s a fact, I assure you.  Well, when we were travelling in the states, Fred happened to come across some tea he liked particularly, at Chicago.  And the funny thing about this tea is that it is compressed.  It is called ‘Wapshotts’ Patent Compressed Tea;’ now I daresay,” added Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys demurely, “that you wouldn’t think it possible for compressed tea to be good.”

“To tell you the truth,” said Mr. Moggridge, “I have never given the subject a thought.”

“No, of course; being a poet, you wouldn’t.  But it’s very good, all the same:  you buy it in cakes, and have to be very particular that ‘Wapshott and Sons’ is written on each cake:  of course it isn’t really written—­”

“Of course not; but you’ll excuse me if I don’t yet see—­”

“To be sure you don’t until I have explained.  Well, you see, men are so particular about what they eat and drink, and are always thinking about it—­I don’t mean poets, of course.  I suppose you, for instance, only think about gossamer and things.”

“I don’t know that I think much about gossamer,” said Mr. Moggridge.

“Well, moonbeams, then.  But Fred is different.  Ever since he left Chicago he has been talking about that tea.  I wonder you never heard him.”

“I have not, to my knowledge.”

“No?  Well, at last, finding it couldn’t be bought in England, he sent across for a chest.  We had the invoice a few days ago, and here it is.”

Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys produced a scrap of paper, and went on—­

“You see, it’s coming in a ship called the Maryland, and ought to be here about this time.  Well, Fred was looking through his telescope before breakfast this morning—­he’s always looking through a telescope now, and knows, I believe, every rig of every vessel in the world—­when he calls out, ‘Hullo!  American barque!’ in his short way.  Of course, I didn’t know at first what he meant, and mixed it up with that stuff—­Peruvian bark, isn’t it?—­that you give to your child, if you have one, and do not