“Well, take my lady’s eyes,” said Herbert with a low bow to Elsie.
“Her nose rather! That would be more in keeping,” retorted Elsie.
“All right,” laughed Antoine, and scarcely a moment later he was carolling a rollicking Irish jig to words that seemed to follow the tune as if they had been fitted with the utmost carefulness.
“My lady’s nose—
You wouldn’t suppose
A poet could rave about it,
But as it lies
Between her eyes,
She wouldn’t look well without it!
“An ‘ornery’ nose