"Now what are you laughing
at?"
"Because you have made such a wrong guess. It is some one 'very different,
entirely different,' Jule. It is Milton, the blind poet Milton. Now try
another because you failed in this. My first"--
"No, no, I must beg for a rest. It is too much brain work for vacation. I
am going now to see how Castor is after my ride this morning." And Julius
dashed off to the stable.
"Oh, what a shame!" cried Rolf, "what a pity! Now there is no one to
guess, and I made four splendid charades on my way home. It is too bad
that you are not old enough to guess, Hunne."
"But I can guess; I am old enough," said the little fellow rather vexed.
"Well, then try this one, try hard. Stop playing with the nuts and I will
crack some more for you bye and bye. Now listen:
"My first conceals from light of day
The wanderer on his final way;
My second sizzling in the pan,
Makes hungrier still the hungry man;
My whole, bedecked in trappings gay,
Goes ambling on the livelong day.
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