And the next thing we knew we see that poem in the joke page of a Boston paper.

I never--' "He laughed, quiet and sorrowful.

He had the quietest way of speakin', anyhow, and his voice was a lovely tenor.

To hear it purrin' out of his big, tall body was as unexpected as a hymn tune in a cent-in-the-slot talkin' machine.
"'Too bad,' he says.

'As a waiter, I'm afraid--' "Just then the door of one of the Annex houses opened sudden, and there stood Grace Robinson.