"I've been sorry for a long time that so clever a man as you had such bad songs to sing.

And so, though I'm busy most of the time, I've written one for you.

I like you, so I'll only charge you a guinea for every time you sing it, and let you set your own music to it, too!" It was a generous offer, surely, but I did not see my way clear to accept it, and the song went back immediately.

A little later I got another.

He wrote a very dignified letter this time; he'd evidently made up his mind to forgie me for the way I'd insulted him and his song before, but he wanted me to understand he'd have nae nonsense frae me.