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Updated: May 13, 2025
But he did not allow himself to dwell upon the past. The present was so delightful that it occupied all his thoughts. Zonela, he was in love with the organ-girl." "Oh, that's so nice!" said Zonela, innocently, pinching poor Furbelow, as she spoke, in order to dispel a very evident snooze that was creeping over him. "It's going to be a love-story."
The merry notes of the polka were ground out to a silent accompaniment of tears. She looked very sad, this organ-girl, and her monkey seemed to have caught the infection, for his large brown eyes were moist, as if he also wept.
"You have betrayed yourself. You called yourself Solon," cried Zonela. "Was it a dream?" "I do not know," answered Solon; "but since that night I have been a poet." "A poet?" screamed the little organ-girl, "a real poet, who makes verses which every one reads and every one talks of?" "The people call me a poet," answered Solon, with a sad smile.
"A halfpenny," whines the little organ-girl, reaching forth her little tin plate; "only a halfpenny." "Yes," I said, unthinkingly, and I sprang to my feet and ransacked all my pockets. But the child thinks I only want to make fun of her, and she goes away at once without saying a word. This dumb forbearance was too much for me. If she had abused me, it would have been more endurable.
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