Seeing the Crumpled Paper in the Basket, the Friend, who was
Inquisitive, hooked it out and read the Lines. Presently, when the
Author looked up, the Friend had big Tears rolling down his Cheeks and
was Sniffling.
"This is the Best Thing you have ever done," said the Friend. "My God,
but it is Pathetic! It will certainly Appeal to any one who has lost a
Child."
"I have no desire to Manufacture any more Sorrow for the Bereaved," said
the Author. "They have had Trouble enough. If I have to deal in White
Caskets or tap the Lachrymal Glands in order to thrash out an Income, I
will cease being an Author and go back to Work."
"But this Poem will touch any Heart," insisted the Friend. "As soon as I
got into it I began to Cry. You can get a Good Price for this."
When it came down to a Business Basis, the Author Switched.
"Get what you can on it," he said. "It seems a Shame to go and Market
that kind of Scroll-Work; still if it hits you, it may be Bad enough to
affect others having the same Shape of Head. I need the Money and I have
no Shame."
Thereupon the Friend sent the Verses to the Publisher of a Family
Monthly that Percolates into every Postoffice in the Country.
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