and Fogger said: 'Only babies talk to their toes; a tug talks to her tow.' He does say such 'diculous things!"
"Doesn't he!" Joan agreed.
"Now read, please," said Garth. "I don't know where the nicest ones are, that Mudder reads, but I think they must all be nice. Just begin anywhere."
Joan sighed a little. Her only previous experience of reading aloud to a child had been the entertainment of a small three-year-old girl whose mamma had gone shopping. The book had been provided by the mother and was an interminable tale about a Little Piggy and a Little Chickie. Joan opened the book at random, and then said:
"Why, this is poetry! Do you like these, Garth? Do you understand them?"
"I love it all," said Garth. "Please go on!"
So Joan read:
SHIPS OF THE SUN
At sunset, with their poops aflame,
The lofty golden galleons came;
The saffron sails of argosies
From far adown the world were these.
