CHAPTER XXVII

AULD LANG SYNE A week or two later, one bright spring afternoon, Will was strolling by himself down the sunny side of Bond Street. All the world was there—for the world was in town—and the pavements were crowded. But Will moved through the stream of well-dressed dawdlers, seeing and hearing little. In the midst of all that idle throng, his head was full of melodies; he was working up rhymes to ready-made tunes, undisturbed by the hubbub and din of London. Of a sudden, somebody stopped and stood straight in front of…