The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1905-04-08
The Witch'S
Hour
\ o you wark to be court poet" re-
J marked the witch. Il thought
By AIDS DUNBAR


you had settled down to farming"
Not all the way down, godmother,"
protested the poet, whose name was
Dilatorio. only on every-days."
Meaning the kind that aren't holt
days. suppose" snapped the witch,
clicking her knitting needles. Il have
no other kind in my business. Why do
you come to me? I'm no judge OF
poetry"
well, you see, godmother," began
Dilatorio, somewhat uneasily, the ap-
pointment will be given to the man
who writes the best ode for the COM
ing marriage of the Princess Melisette
two weeks. / found, quite by accident,
that the apples in the cellar were
spelling, and had to pick them over.
That's why / didn't happen to hear
about the competition until yester-
day. If l had only known before 1t
will be over in two da-,. but there"
Aren't any holidays in between"
flushed up the witch, who had ter
rible way of knowing what you were
going to say and of ending up your
sentences for you when she couldn't
really be bothered with you any lon
ger.
That's exactly It," replied Dila-
torio. Il have splendid idea for the
ode, but somehow I've not been able
10 find time to write it down. The
early peas, you know, and the aspara-
gus, and the lunch-time, and dinner
tirne, and people talking to me over
the fence
why don't you build the fence
higher so they can't bother your"
asked the witch, leaning her sharp
| little chin on her withered little hand.
81 will when l have little more
leisure" answered the poet, uncom-
tortably. But about this ODE II you
intending to use right away and would
let me borrow it I'm sure could get
| the appointment. Then / would have
mr. magnificent apartment in the pal
ace and the fence wouldn't matter"
Well" unused the witch, who had a
soft spot In her queer heart FOR her
gcdson, you could hardly do worse
at court than you do at farming.
| have a few extra hours in my strong
closet there. I've been saving them
carefully. Hours are precious, Dila-
| torio."
"Oh, one would be more than
enough" returned the poet, eagerly
"1he idea is all ready to be written
on a beautiful sheet of pink embossed
baper with gold edges, that is in the
Top drawer of my desk"
wait here" ordered the witch. 81
must fly up into the tower where
keep my account books, and see what
can let you have"
Catching up her brooms.ick. which
stood leaning against the wall, she dis
| appeared-leaving Dilatorio in her
cave AS he stood wondering, his eye
sell on the strong closet in corner.
and he went cautiously toward it and
laid his hand on the key. To his sur
prise the door swung open at touch,
| so that he could look in. 1t was lined
with polished silver, but inside was
nothing more than a few old nets.
hanging from row of silver pegs.
$50 spare hours look like that"
said the poet. Who would have
thought it?" Then he closed the door
in hurry. for he heard the swish of
broom straw
IT find that l can't spare but one
hour" frowned the witch. dropping
through the roof on her stick, still
1 knitting. Il dony often waste time.
and Il know perfectly well that this
will be thrown away, but just for once
I'll give you an hour outright. that
Is, all of It that you don't spend on the
road going home"
1T can be at my desk in five min
.ntss." protested the poet.
Very well. If your ode is already
Composed. that should leave you time
enough to write it down. But go
,traight to your door from mine, with