Once upon a time, in a city far, far away,
there lived an Old Money Gal in a house by the bay.
She lived quite alone—except for her books and a cat—
but she was working and well and quite alright with just that.
A dashing young man saw her at the market one day
and introduced himself in a very chivalrous way;
Not a knight in shining armor, and certainly not a prince,
he nevertheless showed respect as he gave affectionate hints.
When he asked her to dinner, she answered simply with yes,
but how the evening would go, neither could guess;
At the appointed hour, he arrived dressed quite well—
it was a good omen as far as the Old Money Gal could tell.
As they walked to his carriage, he skipped around to his door,
threw it wide open and flopped in, his feet on its floor.
The Old Money Gal paused on the sidewalk, just one step away
and waited for something—exactly what, who could say?
The young man looked through the window as he sat in his seat,
smiling a smile that she returned as she stood on the street;
A long moment passed in his confusion as he thought,
Had he done something wrong? Or not done something he ought?
As his mind went in circles of searching and then came to a stall,
The Old Money Gal still waited for something, not moving at all.
She did not huff, nor puff—she did not sigh, nor cry.
She simply stood resolved, unmoving and alone—
as if some mysterious spell had turned her to stone.
In the next instant it clicked in the young man’s feeble head
and in a panic he flew out and around with a dread.
He threw open her carriage door, nearly breaking the handle off,
‘Please forgive me’, he said with an apologetic cough.
Thank you, very much, said the Old Money Gal as she entered.
You’re very welcome, he replied, his pride quite splintered.
Then into the night, off to dinner they went
and who knows what transpired after such an incident?
Who knows if the evening ended abruptly or neatly,
but one thing is certain: they understood each other completely.