"Penton swears coffee is worse than whiskey, the rankest of poisons. We have to hide the percolator from him." "He lies a-bed late, when he wakes. He lies there thinking out what he will later on dictate to Ruth.... we can finish before--" But just then Penton himself came hurrying up the path from the little cottage. When he saw what we were doing he gave us such a look of solemn disgust that we nearly smothered with laughter, which we tried to suppress. "When you take that percolator off the table--" he stood aloof, "I'll sit down with you." Then we laughed outright, not in disrespect of him, but as children laugh at a humorous incident at school. "Oh, yes, it might seem funny ... so does a drunken man who gives up his reason to a drug seem funny.... but it's no more a joke than that ... coffee is a vile poison ... I have a sense of humour," he continued, turning to me, "just as keen as the next one ... but I know, by scientific research, just how much damage that stuff does." * * * * * I read my sonnet to Penton, in a grave, respectful voice. Peace was patched. We then sat together, under the chequered shade of the big tree which towered over our table ... Baxter waxed as eloquent as an angel ... the wonderful, absurd, little man. Daniel came romping out for breakfast. * * * * * Penton reached for the morning's mail. He climbed into the hammock and read, with all the joy of a boy, the huge bunch of press clippings about himself, his activities, his work ... a daily procedure of his, I was to learn. He chuckled, joked, was immensely pleased ... handed me various items to read, or read choice bits aloud to all of us. After all, though I pretended to criticise, to myself ... yet, in my heart, I liked his frank rejoicing in his fame, his notoriety, and only envied him his ability to do so. * * * * * I returned to my tent to work, as I had planned to do each morning, on my play _Judas_. The dialogue would not come to me ... I laid it aside and instead was inspired to set down instantly the blank verse poem to the play:--