"There are creatures," said I, with a weariful shake of the head, "who are by nature solemn."
"True," says she, placidly, "but even they hoot at night;" and she looked across the valley with extreme unconsciousness. But I noticed that her mouth dimpled at the corners as if she was very pleased.
"I know," said I, remorsefully, "that I make the dullest of companions."
She nodded her head in cordial agreement
"Perhaps you cannot help it," says she, with great sympathy.
"The truth is," I exclaimed sharply, "I have overmuch to make me solemn."
"No doubt," and the sympathy deepened in her voice, "and I am sure every one must pity you. There was a king once who never smiled again. I am sure every one pitied him too."
"He only lost a son," I replied foolishly, meaning thereby that honour was a thing of more worth.
"And you an estate," says she. "It is indeed very true," and she clasped her hands and shook her head.
"Madam," I returned with some dignity, "you put words into my mouth that I had no thought of using. It was not of a mere estate that I was speaking."