Johnny had not gone ten feet ahead of her when she was humming softly to herself a little, old-fashioned tune.

And the tune was "Auld Lang Syne." Johnny whirled in the trail and faced her, hard-eyed.
"You're trying to play smart Aleck, too, are yuh ?" he demanded.

"Why don't yuh sing the words that's in your mind?
Why don't you _try_ to sing your own ideas of poetry?
You know as much about writing poetry as I do about tatting! 'Worry'! 'surrey'! Or did you mean that it should be read 'wawry,' 'sorry' ?" A fine way to talk to the Flower of the Rancho! Mary V looked as though she wanted to slap Johnny Jewel's smooth, boyish face.
"Of course, you're qualified to teach me," she retorted.

"Such doggerel! You ought to send it to the comic papers.

Really, Mr.Jewel, I have read a good deal of amateurish, childish attempts at poetry--in the infant class at school.