It was a very interesting article, Jimmieboy thought. The idea of anybody's writing poetry while asleep struck him as being very comical, and he laughed several times in a sleepy sort of way, and then all of a sudden he thought, "Why, if other people can do it, why can't I?" "Why?" he answered--he was quite fond of asking himself questions and then answering them--"why? Because you can't write at all. You don't know an H from a D, unless there's a Horse in the picture with the H, and a Donkey with the D. That's why." "True; but that's only when I'm awake." "Try it and see," whispered the Pencil in his papa's vest pocket. "I'll help, and maybe our old friend the Scratch Pad will help too." "That's a good idea," said Jimmieboy, taking the Pencil out of his papa's pocket, and assisting it to climb down to the floor, so that it could run over to the desk and tell the Scratch Pad it was wanted. "Don't you lose my pencil," said papa. "No, I won't," replied Jimmieboy, his eyes following the Pencil in its rather winding course about the room to where the desk stood. "I have to keep out of sight, you know, Jimmieboy," the Pencil said, in a low tone of voice. "Because if I didn't, and your papa saw me walking off, he'd grab hold of me and put me back in his pocket again." Suddenly the Pencil disappeared over by the waste-basket, and then Jimmieboy heard him calling, in a loud whisper: "Hi! Pad! Paddy! Pad-dee!" "What's wanted?" answered the Pad, crawling over the edge of the desk and peering down at the Pencil, who was by this time hallooing himself hoarse. "Jimmieboy and I are going to write some dream poetry, and we want you to help," said the Pencil. "Oh, I'm not sleepy," said the Pad. "Neither am I," returned the Pencil. "But that needn't make any difference. Jimmieboy, does the sleeping and dreaming, and you and I do the rest." "Oh, that's it, eh? Well, then, I don't mind; but--er--how am I ever going to get down there?" asked the Pad. "It's a pretty big jump." "That's so," answered the Pencil. "I wouldn't try jumping. Can't the Twine help you?" "No. He's all used up." "Then I have it," said the Pencil. "Put a little mucilage on your back and slide down. The mucilage will keep you from going too fast." "Good scheme," said the Pad, putting the Pencil's suggestion into practice, and finding that it worked beautifully, even if it did make him feel uncomfortably sticky. [Illustration: ARM IN ARM THEY TIPTOED SOFTLY ACROSS THE ROOM.] And then, arm in arm, they tip-toed softly across the room and climbed up into Jimmieboy's lap. So quietly did they go that neither Jimmieboy's mamma, nor his papa noticed them at all, as they might have had the conspirators been noisy, although mamma was reading and papa's head was thrown back, so that his eyes rested on the picture moulding. "Here we are, Jimmieboy," said the Pad. "Pen here tells me you're going to try a little dream poetry." "Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I am, if you two will help."