Page:Ballinger Price--The Happy Venture.djvu/74

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"That is a nice one!" Kirk agreed. "It sounds real. I don't know how you can do it."

A faint clapping was heard from the direction of the house, and turning, Ken saw his sister dropping him a curtsey at the door. "That," she said, "is a poem, not a pome—a perfectly good one."

"Go 'way!" shouted Ken. "You're a wicked interloper. And you don't even know why Kirk and I write pomes about toads, so you don't!"

"I never could see," Ken remarked that night, "why people are so keen about beds of roses. If you ask me, I should think they'd be uncommon prickly and uncomfortable. Give me a bed of herbs—where love is, don't you know?"

"It wasn't a bed of herbs," Felicia