"Down, Pincher! you'll never be a clever dog, so it's no good trying."
"Do they pay for it?" Dicky thought of that; he often thinks of things that are really important, even if they are a little dull.
"I don't know. But I shouldn't think any one would let them print their poetry without. I wouldn't I know." That was Dora; but Noël said he wouldn't mind if he didn't get paid, so long as he saw his poetry printed and his name at the end.
"We might try, anyway," said Oswald. He is always willing to give other people's ideas a fair trial.
So we copied out "The Wreck of the Malabar" and the other six poems on drawing-paper—Dora did it, she writes best—and Oswald drew a picture of the Malabar going down with all hands. It was a full-rigged schooner, and all the ropes and sails were correct; because my cousin is in the Navy, and he showed me.
We thought a long time whether we'd write a letter and send it by post with the poetry—and Dora thought it would be best. But Noël said he couldn't bear not to know at once if the paper would print the poetry, So we decided to take it.
