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Lord of the Rings
by Charles Dickens
'A happy Birthday, uncle! Elbereth save you!' cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Bilbo's nephew Frodo, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
`Bah!' said Bilbo, `Humbug!' He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Bilbo's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and hair on his feet steamed again.
`Our Birthday a humbug, uncle!' said Bilbo's nephew. `You don't mean that, I am sure?'
`I do,' said Bilbo. `Happy Birthday! What right have you to be happy? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.'
`Come, then, returned the nephew gaily. `What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.'
Bilbo having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said `Bah!' again; and followed it up with `Humbug.'
[ February 09, 2002: Message edited by: Bruce MacCulloch ]
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`A blunderbuss, was it?' said he, scratching his head. `I thought it was horseflies!'
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