parrots when we asked him about the fighting. And we never had a
chance of teaching him better, for two days after he ran away again,
and hasn't been seen since.

That's my story, and I assure you that things like that are happening
at Fairfield all the time. The ship has never come back, but somehow
as people grow older they seem to think that one of these windy
nights she'll come sailing in over the hedges with all the lost
ghosts on board. Well, when she comes, she'll be welcome. There's one
ghost-lass that has never grown tired of waiting for her lad to
return. Every night you'll see her out on the green, straining her
poor eyes with looking for the mast-lights among the stars. A
faithful lass you'd call her, and I'm thinking you'd be right.

Landlord's field wasn't a penny the worse for the visit, but they do
say that since then the turnips that have been grown in it have
tasted of rum.




A Drama Of Youth

I

For some days school had seemed to me even more tedious than usual.
The long train journey in the morning, the walk through Farringdon
Meat Market, which æsthetic butchers made hideous with mosaics of the
intestines of animals, as if the horror of suety pavements and bloody
sawdust did not suffice, the weariness of inventing lies that no one