"Gentle shepherdess," he asked, "whither are you leading your
flock?"
"How behind the age you are!" she replied. "Can you not see that
the flock is leading me?"
"If I were a wolf I would not trouble the flock but would carry
off the shepherdess--to a game of billiards."
"What, then, would become of the flock?"
"that's a question that never troubles a wolf."
"A wolfish answer truly. I think, however, you have reversed the
parable, and are but a well-meaning sheep that has donned a wolf's
skin, and so we will put you to the test. We young people will
give you a chance to draw up our petition, which, if you would
save your character, you must do at once with sheep-like docility,
asking no questions and causing no delay. There, that will answer;
very sheepishly done, but no sheep's eyes, if you please," she
added, as Stanton pretended to look up to her for inspiration,
while writing. "Now, all sign. I think I can trust you, sir, on
the outskirts of the flock. Here, my little man and woman, go to
each of the ladies and gentlemen, make a bow and a courtesy, and
present the petition."
"May I not gambol with the shepherdess in the coming pastoral?"
asked Stanton.
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