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"
Who
said
it
,
for
Pete
's
sake
?
"
"
Well
,
"
said
Burne
,
recovering
his
voice
,
"
St.
Matthew
attributes
it
to
Christ
.
"
"
My
God
!
"
cried
Jesse
,
and
collapsed
backward
into
the
waste-basket
.
AMORY
WRITES
A
POEM
The
weeks
tore
by
.
Amory
wandered
occasionally
to
New
York
on
the
chance
of
finding
a
new
shining
green
auto-bus
,
that
its
stick-of-candy
glamour
might
penetrate
his
disposition
.
One
day
he
ventured
into
a
stock-company
revival
of
a
play
whose
name
was
faintly
familiar
.
The
curtain
rose
--
he
watched
casually
as
a
girl
entered
.
A
few
phrases
rang
in
his
ear
and
touched
a
faint
chord
of
memory
.
Where
--
?
When
--
?
Then
he
seemed
to
hear
a
voice
whispering
beside
him
,
a
very
soft
,
vibrant
voice
:
"
Oh
,
I
'm
such
a
poor
little
fool
;
do
tell
me
when
I
do
wrong
.
"
The
solution
came
in
a
flash
and
he
had
a
quick
,
glad
memory
of
Isabelle
.
He
found
a
blank
space
on
his
programme
,
and
began
to
scribble
rapidly
:
"
Here
in
the
figured
dark
I
watch
once
more
,
There
,
with
the
curtain
,
roll
the
years
away
;
