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LOVE'S COMEDY.
[Act I.
Mrs. Halm [sighing].
That child! Heaven knows, she's past my comprehending!
Miss Jay.
But, Mr. Falk, I thought the lyric's ending
Was not so rich in—well, in poetry,
As others of the stanzas seemed to be.
Stiver.
Why yes, and I am sure it could not tax
Your powers to get a little more inserted—
Falk [clinking glasses with him].
You cram it in, like putty into cracks,
Till lean is into streaky fat converted.
Stiver [unruffled].
Yes, nothing easier—I, too, in my day
Could do the trick.
Guldstad.
Dear me! Were you a poet?
Miss Jay.
My Stiver! Yes!
Stiver.
Oh, in a humble way.
