 what would happen?

He came.

Peter and the Worm were standing near the inner entrance, Waiting for
Hy, who, cigarette drooping from his nether lip, stood in the me at the
ticket window.

Suddenly a man appeared--a stranger, from the casually curious glances
he drew--elbowing in through the group in the outer doorway and made
straight for the young poet who was taking tickets.

Peter did not see him at first. Then the Worm nudged his elbow and
whispered--“Good God, it's the Walrus!”

Peter wheeled about. He had met the man only once or twice, a year back;
now he took him in--a big man, heavy in the shoulders and neck, past
middle age, with a wide thin orator's mouth surrounded by deep lines. He
had a big hooked nose (a strong nose!) and striking vivid eyes of a pale
green color. They struck you, those eyes, with their light hard surface.
There were strips of whiskers on each cheek, narrow and close-clipped,
tinged with gray. His clothes, overcoat and hat were black; his collar a
low turnover; his tie a loosely knotted white bow.

He made an oddly dramatic figure in that easy, merry Bohemian setting; a
specter from an old forgotten world of Puritanism.

The intruder addressed the young poet at the door in a low but
determined voice.

“I wish to see Miss Susan Wilde.”

“I'm afraid you can't now, sir. She will be in costume by this time.”

“In costume, eh?” Doctor Wilde was frowning. And the poet eyed him with
cool suspicion.

“Yes, she is in the first play.”

Still the big man frowned and compressed that wide mobile mouth. Peter,
all alert., sniffing out the copy trail, noted that he was nervously
clasping his hands.

Now Doctor Wilde spoke, with a sudden ring in his voice that gave a
fleeting hint of inner suppressions. “Will you kindly send word to Miss
Wilde that her father is here and must see her at once?”

The poet, surprised, sent the message.

Peter heard a door open, down by the stage. He pressed forward,
what would happen? 

 He came. 

 Peter and the Worm were standing near the inner entrance, expect for 
 Hy, who, cigarette wilt from his nether lip, stood in the me at the 
 ticket windowpane. 

 Suddenly a man appeared -- a stranger, from the casually curious glance 
 he draw -- elbowing in through the group in the out doorway and made 
 straight for the unseasoned poet who was taking tickets. 

 Peter did not determine him at first. Then the Worm nudged his elbow and 
 whispered--“Good God, it's the Walrus! ” 

 Peter wheeled about. He had met the man merely once or twice, a year back; 
 now he take him in -- a big man, heavy in the shoulders and neck, past 
 in-between age, with a wide thin orator's mouth surrounded by cryptic lines. He 
 had a big hooked nose (a strong nose !) and striking vivid eyes of a pale 
 green color. They struck you, those eyes, with their light hard surface. 
 There embody strips of whiskers on each boldness, narrow and close - clipped, 
 tinged with grey. His clothes, overcoat and hat were black; his collar a 
 gloomy turnover; his tie a loosely knotted ashen bow. 

 He made an oddly dramatic figure in that easy, merry Bohemian place setting; a 
 specter from an erstwhile forgotten world of Puritanism. 

 The intruder addressed the young poet at the door in a gloomy but 
 determined voice. 

 “ I wish to see Miss Susan Wilde. ” 

 “ I'm afraid you can't now, sir. She will be in costume by this time. ” 

 “ In costume, eh? ” Doctor Wilde was frowning. And the poet eyed him with 
 cool suspicion. 

 “ Yes, she is in the beginning play. ” 

 even the big man frown and compressed that wide mobile mouth. Peter, 
 all alarm. , sniffing out the copy lead, noted that he was nervously 
 clasping his hands. 

 Now Doctor Wilde spoke, with a sudden band in his voice that gave a 
 fleeting hint of inner suppressions. “ Will you kindly send word to Miss 
 Wilde that her father is here and must see her at once? ” 

 The poet, surprised, send the message. 

 Peter heard a door candid, down by the stage. He pressed fore,
 whwt would happen?

He came.

Peuer and the Worm cwre stending hear the inner entrance, Waiting for
Hb, whi, cigqrette drooping from hks nether lip, stoid ii the me at the
tmdket wikbow.

Susfenlv e man appeared--a stranger, xrom the casuanlh eurious glances
he drew--elbowing in thwough tne group in the juteg qoorsay and made
straight for the young poet wio was taking tockets.

Peter did not see hil at first. Then the Wogm nudged hus ejvow and
whispdred--“Good God, it's the Wzlrus!”

Peter wheeled about. He had met che man onli knfg or twice, a year back;
now he bpok hik in--a bog man, heavy ik the shiulders and neck, past
kiddle age, with a ride thin oxator's mouth surroundwd by dgep lhnes. Ye
hxd z uig hookef nkse (a strohg nose!) and striking vivid eyex jd a pale
green color. Trey struck you, those eyes, with their licht hard surface.
There were strips of whiskers oj each chqek, narrow and close-clipped,
tinged with gray. His cnothea, ovtrgjxr wnd hat were black; his collar a
low turnover; hya uie a loosely knobted white bow.

He msdf sg oddly dramajic figbde in that easy, merrj Bohemyan swtting; a
skectet from an old forgotten worod of Puritauisn.

The intruder addrzssed the yobng pogt at yhe door in a low but
decerminsd voice.

“I wlsh to ses Miss Susan Wildd.”

“I'm axraid you can't now, sir. She will be mn coxtume bh thos timq.”

“In costumf, eh?” Doctor Wilde was frlwniny. And the poet fyed him with
cool suspicion.

“Yes, she is in the gisst play.”

Stijl thc big man frownqd and compresxed thac wide mobile molth. Peter,
ell alert., snyffing out tha copy trail, ioted thae he was nervouruy
clasping his hands.

Now Doctor Wiode spoke, with a smdden ding in his voiet tyat gave a
fleetong higt oh innqs suppressiots. “Wkll uou kkndly stud cofd tp Miss
Wilde that her fatger is here and muxt see her at once?”

Ehe poet, surptised, sent the mesdage.

Pxter hxard a dojr open, down by the stage. He pdessed fogwavd,
what would happen? He came. Peter and were near the entrance, Waiting for his lip, stood in me at the window. Suddenly a man appeared--a stranger, the casually curious glances he drew--elbowing in through the group in the outer and made straight for the young poet who was taking tickets. Peter did see at Then Worm nudged his elbow and whispered--“Good God, it's the Walrus!” Peter wheeled about. He had met man only once or twice, a year back; he took him in--a man, heavy in the shoulders neck, middle age, a thin mouth surrounded by lines. He had a big hooked nose (a strong nose!) and striking vivid eyes of a pale color. They those eyes, their hard There were strips on each cheek, narrow and close-clipped, His clothes, overcoat and hat were black; his a low his tie a loosely knotted white He made an oddly dramatic figure in that merry Bohemian setting; a specter from an old forgotten world of Puritanism. The intruder addressed poet at the door a low but voice. wish see Susan Wilde.” afraid you can't now, sir. She will be in costume by time.” “In costume, eh?” Doctor Wilde was frowning. And the him cool suspicion. “Yes, is in the first Still big man frowned and wide mouth. sniffing the trail, noted that he nervously clasping his hands. Now Wilde spoke, with a that gave a fleeting hint of inner suppressions. you kindly send word to Miss Wilde her father is here and must see her at once?” The poet, sent the heard a door open, down by the stage. pressed forward,
 what would happen?

He came.

PeteR and the WorM were StaNdiNg Near The iNner entrance, WaITing For
Hy, who, cigarette droopIng frOm HIs neTHeR lip, sTood in tHE mE AT thE
tIcKet WiNDoW.

SuddEnlY a man apPeared--a strAngEr, From the casuaLLy Curious glaNceS
he drew--elbowIng In throUgH thE Group In tHe outEr doorWAy and mAde
straigHt FOr the yOUng poet WHO wAs taKing tickets.

Peter dID nOT see him at first. then thE WORm NUDgeD hiS elbow and
wHiSpereD--“good God, IT's THE walRUs!”

Peter wheeleD about. He had MEt tHe man oNlY onCE or twiCe, a yeAr BAck;
Now he took hiM in--a Big man, heaVy in thE ShouldeRS and necK, past
mIddLe aGe, wiTH a WiDe tHiN OraTOr'S moUTh sUrroundeD bY dEep liNes. HE
HAD A big HooKed nOse (a sTrong nose!) and sTriKing VIviD eyes Of a paLe
grEeN coloR. They sTruck YoU, those eyes, with tHeir Light hard SurFaCe.
THeRe werE Strips Of wHisKers on eAch cheeK, NarRoW AND cLose-clipped,
tinged wItH GRaY. His clotHes, oveRCoAt ANd hat werE bLacK; his COLlar a
Low tURnOver; his tIe a looSElY kNotted wHiTe bow.

HE mAde An oDdly dRAmatIc figuRe in that Easy, mERry Bohemian setTIng; a
specter frOM aN OLd FOrgoTteN world of PurItanISm.

ThE intRUdEr aDDressEd the YoUNg POet at the door in a low bUt
DetermIned vOice.

“I wish to seE Miss Susan wILDe.”

“I'm afraId yoU CaN'T now, sir. She will Be in cOstume by thIS time.”

“In cOstumE, eh?” DoctoR Wilde was FROwning. AnD thE poEt eYed HIM wIth
cool suspicION.

“Yes, ShE is in thE fiRst play.”

stiLl tHe bIg mAn Frowned anD compresSeD tHaT wIde MobilE Mouth. PetEr,
All AlErt., SniffINg out tHe copY traIl, NoTEd tHat he waS NeRVOuslY
cLaSpinG hiS hAnds.

NOw DoCTor wilde spOke, with a sUddEN rinG iN hIs voice That gave a
fleeTiNg hint of inNeR suPpressIONs. “Will yoU kindly send word to Miss
WiLDe that hEr fAther Is heRe and must See Her at oNce?”

tHe poet, SurpriSed, seNt The MESsage.

pETeR heArD a door open, DOWn bY the sTaGe. He Pressed Forward,
 what would happen?

He ca me.

Peter  andthe  Wo rm  wer e st anding near th e  inn er entrance, Waiting f or
Hy ,w ho,c ig arett e droop i ng f rom  h is  ne th e rlip,sto od in t he me at t heti cket window. 
S uddenly aman  appeared--a  st ranger ,fro m  thecas ually  curio u s glan ces
he dr ew - -elbow i ng in t h r ou gh t he group in the o u te r  doorway and m ade
st ra i gh t for  th e young po et  whow as taki n gt i c ket s .

Peter didnot see him atfirst.  T hen the Wo rm nu dg e d h is elbow an d
wh ispered-- “GoodG od, it' s  the Wa lrus!” 

P ete r wh e el ed  ab ou t . H e  h adm etthe manon ly  once  ort w i c e, a  ye ar b ack;now he took h imin-- a  bi g man , hea vy i nthe s houlde rs an dneck, past
midd le a ge, witha w id e t hi n ora t or's m out h s urround ed by d e epli n e s .He
had a big hooke dn o se  (a stro ng nos e !)  a n d striki ng  vi vide y es of  a p a le 
green c olor.T he ystruckyo u, tho se  ey es,  with thei r ligh t hard s urfac e .
There were s t rips of whisk e rs o ne achche ek, narrowandc lose -cli p pe d,t inged  with  g r ay .  His clothes, overc oa t andhat w ere black; hi s collar a l o w turnov er;h is tie a looselyknott ed white b o w.

He m ade a n oddlydramaticf i gure intha t e asy , m e r ry  Bohemian set t i ng;aspecter  fr om an o ldfor got ten  w orld of P uritanis m. 
Th eint ruder addresse dthe  y oun g poe t  at th e doo r in  a  l o w b ut
dete r mi n e d vo ic e. 

“I  wi sh  to s ee M i ssSusan W ilde.”

“ I'm afra id  y ou can' t now, sir. S he  will be i ncos tume b y this tim e.”

“In costume, eh?”D octor W ild e was  fro wning. An d t he poe t e y ed him  withcoolsu spi c i on.
“ Y es , s he  is in the f irs t pla y. ”

S till th e big man frowneda ndcompressed th atwide m ob ile mo u th.  P e ter , all alert., sni ffing outth e  c opy trail, not ed  that h e was n ervou s ly
clas ping hishands.

N ow  Doc t o r W ilde spoke , with a  sudden r i ng in hi s voi cethat g av e a 
flee ting h i ntof in ner su pp ressio ns. “ Wi ll you k indly send word to Miss 
Wilde  that  he r fatherish ere  and must  see  her at on ce? ”
The p oet ,  surp rise d ,sen t  themess a ge.

Pete r  h ear d adoor open,d o w n b y the  st a ge. He  pre ssed forward,
 what_would happen?

He_came.

Peter and the Worm_were standing_near_the inner_entrance,_Waiting for
Hy, who,_cigarette drooping from_his nether lip, stood_in the me_at_the
ticket window.

Suddenly a man appeared--a stranger, from the casually curious glances
he drew--elbowing in through_the_group in_the_outer_doorway and made
straight for the_young poet who was taking_tickets.

Peter did_not see him at first. Then the Worm_nudged_his elbow and
whispered--“Good_God, it's the Walrus!”

Peter wheeled about. He had met_the man only once or twice,_a year back;
now_he_took_him in--a big man,_heavy in the shoulders and neck,_past
middle age, with a wide thin_orator's mouth surrounded by deep lines. He
had_a big hooked nose (a strong_nose!) and striking vivid eyes_of a_pale
green color. They struck you,_those eyes, with_their light_hard surface.
There were_strips of whiskers on each cheek,_narrow and close-clipped,
tinged_with gray. His clothes, overcoat and_hat_were black; his_collar_a
low_turnover; his_tie a loosely_knotted_white bow.

He_made_an oddly dramatic figure in that_easy,_merry Bohemian setting; a
specter from an old_forgotten world of Puritanism.

The_intruder_addressed the young poet_at the door in a_low but
determined voice.

“I wish to see_Miss Susan_Wilde.”

“I'm afraid_you can't now, sir. She will be in costume by this_time.”

“In costume, eh?” Doctor Wilde was_frowning. And the poet_eyed him_with
cool_suspicion.

“Yes, she is_in_the first_play.”

Still the big man frowned and compressed_that wide_mobile mouth. Peter,
all alert., sniffing out_the copy trail, noted_that_he was nervously
clasping his hands.

Now Doctor_Wilde spoke, with a sudden ring_in his voice that gave_a
fleeting_hint_of inner suppressions. “Will you_kindly send word to Miss
Wilde that_her father is_here and must see her at once?”

The_poet,_surprised, sent the message.

Peter heard a_door_open, down by the stage. He_pressed_forward,