Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/61

Rh "Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
 * To mutter some excuse.

"Who can have patience with a man That's got no more discretion than
 * An idiotic goose?

"To keep me waiting here, instead
 * Of telling me at once

That this was not the house!" he said. "There, that'll do—be off to bed!
 * Don't gape like that, you dunce!"

"It's very fine to throw the blame
 * On me in such a fashion!

Why didn't you enquire my name The very minute that you came?"
 * I answered in a passion.