The Comet appeared to be very much pleased at this remark, for he smiled so broadly that Jimmieboy could see the two ends of his mouth appear on either side of the back of his neck. "You're right about that," said the Comet. "I'm the brightest thing there ever was. I'm all the time getting off jokes and things." "Are you really?" cried Jimmieboy, delighted. "I am so glad, for I love jokes and--and things. Get off a joke now, will you?" "Certainly," replied the obliging Comet. "You don't know why the moon is called she, do you?" "No," said Jimmieboy. "Why is it?" "Because it isn't a sun, so it must be a daughter," said the Comet. "Isn't that funny?" "I guess so," said Jimmieboy, trying to look as if he thought the joke a good one. "But don't you know anything funnier than that?" "Yes," returned the Comet. "What do you think of this: What is the only thing you can crack without splitting it?" "That sounds interesting," said Jimmieboy, "but I'm sure I never could guess." "Why, it's a joke, of course," said the Comet. "You can crack a joke eight times a day and it's as whole as it ever was when night comes." "That's so," said Jimmieboy. "That's funnier than the other, too. I see now why they call you a Comic." "I'm not a Comic," said the Comet, with a laugh at Jimmieboy's mistake. "I'm a Comet. I end with a T like the days when you have dinner in the afternoon. They end with a tea, don't they?" "That's the best, yet," roared Jimmieboy. "If you give me another like that I may laugh harder and fall off, so I guess you'd better hadn't." "How would you like to hear some of my poetry?" asked the Comet. "I'm a great writer of poetry, I can tell you. I won a prize once for writing more poetry in an hour than any other Comet in school." "I'm very fond of it," said Jimmieboy. "Specially when it don't make sense." "That's the kind I like, too," agreed the Comet. "I never can understand the other kind. I've got a queer sort of a head. I can't understand sense, but nonsense is as clear to me as--well as turtle soup. Ever see any turtle soup?" "No," said Jimmieboy, "but I've seen turtles." "Well, turtle soup is a million times clearer than turtles, so maybe you can get some idea of what I mean." "Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I think I do. Nonsense poetry is like a window to you. You can see through it in a minute." "Exactly," said the Comet. "Only nonsense poetry hasn't any glass in it, so it isn't exactly like a window to me after all." "Well, anyhow," put in Jimmieboy. "Let's have some of the poetry." "Very good," said the Comet. "Here goes. It's about an animal named the Speeler, and it's called 'The Speeler's Lament.' "Oh, many years ago, When Jack and Jill were young, There wandered to and fro, Along the glistening snow, A Speeler, much unstrung. "I asked the Speeler why He looked so mortal sad? He gazed into my eye, And then he made reply, In language very bad,