And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. "Adorable girl!" he cried, in the most impassioned tone, and with the most impassioned look he could command. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. I don’t mind it. I had a perfect shoal of callers.
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