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"I wouldn't be surprised but they just put that bit in to make it look more like the thing. What was the piece you were reciting?" John repeated it to him again. "What's the sense of that?" the boy exclaimed. "Oh, don't you see? It's ... it's ..." He did not know how to explain the speech. "It's poetry," he said lamely. "Oh" said the boy. "Portry. I see now.

"Ye see, Mis' Deane, it's like this," he said "I as good as promised the poor old gaffer as I'd do 'im a tombstone for nuthin', an' I'm 'ere to say as I aint a-goin' back on that. But I must take my time on it. I'd like to think out a speshul hepitaph an' doin' portry takes a bit of 'ard brain work.

"Any man with half an eye in his head could have seen who she was. I wish I'd gone to the 'Lhambra. This is a damn silly play, this!" John was horrified. "Silly," he said. "It's by Shakespeare!" "I don't care who it's by," was the reply. "It's damn silly to let on a man doesn't know his own wife when he sees her. I suppose that's portry!" he sneered.

Her mother died when Kate was ten year old there's her grave in there with the sickle an' the sheaf an' the portry on it. That was unfort'nit an' no mistake. Course the squire married ag'in but the new wife wa'n't no kind of a mother to the girl an' you know, mister, there was a young scoundrel here by the name o' Grimshaw.

Stealthily creeping close up to Helmsley's side, he examined the prone figure from head to foot with quick and eager scrutiny. Spying the little volume of Keats on the grass where it had dropped from the slumberer's relaxed hand, he took it up gingerly, turning over its pages with grimy thumb and finger. "Portry!" he ejaculated. "Glory be good to me! 'E's a reg'ler noddy none-such!

"I ain't any hand to make love to Portygee sailors," he cried; "I don't believe I could stand it to hold one on my knee more'n half an hour at a time. I don't like a dude. I hate a land-pirut lawyer. But a critter I've al'ays reckoned I'd kill on sight is a grown man that writes portry and lets his folks support him. I've heard of that Concert whatever his name is Tate.

John did not answer, and his neighbour went on. "Well, if it is portry ... God help it, that's all!" But John did not care whether Bassanio had recognized Portia in the court scene or not. He left the theatre in an exalted mood in which he had little thought for the realities. Next week he told himself, he would visit the Royal again.

'I wanted to ask you a favour, miss, if it isn't troublin' you too much, she began. 'What is it? I inquired rather absently, for my mind was very much disturbed just then. 'You see, miss, it's this way. I gotta young man wot's very poetick, like. 'E's always sendin' me portry copied from mottoes out o' crackers. It's very 'ard to keep up with 'im.

"Say, now, look here!" blurted the Cap'n, coming away from the stove and dusting his hard hands together; "you've been rammed into my throat, and I'm havin' pretty blamed hard work to swallow you. I may be able to do it if you don't daub on portry. Now, if you've got any idea what you're here for and what you're goin' to do, you get at it. Do you know?"

'Then how do you want me to help you? I asked, puzzled. 'I wondered if you'd be so kind as to copy me a bit o' portry I sor in one o' master's books. It sounds real pretty, but I can't get it down right. My 'andwritin' is that bad. She took a leather-bound volume of Byron from the kitchen drawer. 'It's just this yere bit: