Chapter 91
The Saucy BoyONCE upon a time there was an old poet, one of those right
good old poets.
One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a
terrible storm going on outside; the rain was pouring down, but the
old poet sat comfortably in his chimney-corner, where the fire was
burning and the apples were roasting.
"There will not be a dry thread left on the poor people
who are out in this weather," he said.
"Oh, open the door! I am so cold and wet through," called
a little child outside. It was crying and knocking at the door,
whilst the rain was pouring down and the wind was rattling all the
windows.
"Poor creature!" said the poet, and got up and opened the
door. Before him stood a little boy; he was n***d, and the water
flowed from his long fair locks. He was shive
