to
be comic," said Hamilton. And, to do him justice, he did not so much
as twitch a lip, though Bones watched his face jealously.

So imperturbable was Hamilton's expression that Bones had courage to
demand with a certain smugness:

"Well, old man, not so bad? Of course, they don't come up to Kipling,
but I can't say that I'm fearfully keen on Kipling, old thing. That
little one about the sunset, I think, is rather a gem."

"I think you're rather a gem," said Hamilton, handing back the proofs.
"Bones, you've behaved abominably, writing poetry of that kind and
leaving it about. You're going to make this girl the laughing-stock of
London."

"Laughing-stock?" snorted the annoyed Bones. "What the dickens do you
mean, old thing? I told you there are no comic poems. They're all
like that."

"I was afraid they were," said Hamilton. "But poems needn't be comic,"
he added a little more tactfully, as he saw Bones's colour rising,
"they needn't be comic to excite people's amusement. The most solemn
and sacred things, the most beautiful thoughts, the most wonderful
sentiments, rouse the laughter of the ignorant."

"True, true," agreed Bones graciously. "And I rather fancy that they
are a little bit on the most beautiful side, my jolly old graven image.
All heart outpourings you understand--but no, you wouldn't understand,
my old crochety one. One of these days, as I've remarked before, they
will be read by competent judges ... midnight oil, dear old thing--at
least, I have electric light in my flat. They're generally done after
dinner."

"After a heavy dinner, I should imagine," said Hamilton with asperity.
"What are you going to do about it, Bones?"

Bones scratched his nose.

"I'm blessed if I know," he said.

"Shall I tell you what you must do?" asked Hamilton quietly.

"Certainly, Ham, my wise old counsellor," said the cheerful Bones.
"Certainly, by all means, Why not?"

"You must go to Miss Whitland and tell her all about it."

Bones's face fell.

"Good Heavens, no!" he gasped. "Don't be indelicate, Ham! Why, she
might never forgive me, dear old thing! Suppose she walked out of the
office in a huff? Great Scotland! Great Jehoshaphat! It's too
terrible to contemplate!"

"You must tell her," said Hamilton firmly. "It's only fair to the girl
to know exactly what is hanging over her."

Bones pleaded, and offered a hundred rapid solutions, none of which
were acceptable to the relentless Hami