Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Billy shook his head.
“No, my dear young lady,” he answered.
“There’s been no time for building rhyme,
For I’ve been very busy.
My daily work I must not shirk
For—for—”
“For if you do, you’ll get dizzy,” suggested Chub.
“Thank you,” laughed Billy. “‘Busy’ ’s a bad word to rhyme to. I ought to have known better than to use it.”
“Did—did it just come natural for you to make poetry?” asked Harry. “Or did you have to learn?”
“I guess it came natural,” was the reply.
“I wish I could do it,” Harry said wistfully. “But I can’t. I’ve tried and tried. I never can think of any rhymes. ”

“ Afterward, just as Roy had lighted the camp-fire, which, to tell the truth was necessary to distract the attention of the mosquitos, there was a hail and Billy Noon appeared. He joined the group and listened interestedly to Dick’s account of the afternoon’s experience with the launch.
“You won’t have much trouble with her now, I guess,” he said. “Gas-engines are kind of queer things, but there’s generally a reason for it when they don’t act right. The only trouble is in discovering the reason. There’s a reason for everything if you can only find it.” ”

“ Noon is just as nice as he can be, and very—very gentlemanly!”
“That’s so,” allowed Chub. “He seems a mighty decent sort, but—but just the same I don’t believe he’s a book agent. There’s a mystery about him.” ”