THE COMING OF MÜLLER
"A' doot she's na guid," he said. "Captain Blackie, sir-r, A've got ma ain idea what B. I. stands for. It's no complimentary to the inventor. If sax is better, than A'm goin' to believe in an auld sayin'."
"What is that, Tam?"
"‘Theer's safety in numbers,’" said Tam, "an' the while A'm on the subject of leeterature A'd like yeer opinion on a vairse A' made aboot Mr. MacMuller."
He produced a folded sheet of paper, opened it, and read,
"Amidst the seelance of the stars
He fell, yon dooty mon o' Mars.
The angels laffit
To see this gaillant bairdman die.
'At lairst! At lairst!' the angels cry,
'We've ain who'll teach us hoo to fly—
Thanks be, he's strafit!’"
"Fine," said Blackie with a smile, "but suppose you're 'strafit' instead?"
"Pit the wee pome on ma ain wreath," said Tam simply; "’t 'ill be true."
57
