“I shall also recite one of his odes to him,” she continued, in the tone of one who is about to confer a great favor. “I know ’twill please him greatly,” and she fanned herself languidly.
“What have you selected?” inquired Lady Glencairn, laughing openly. The woman’s vanity amused her.
“Such a sweet conceit,” simpered Eppy.
“Is it ‘Tam O’Shanter’s Tale’?” inquired Mr. Mackenzie, interestedly.
“No, oh, no!” she replied, shaking her head. “’Tis monstrous long to recite.”
“An ode to a calf,” said Sir William grimly, “would be more appropriate.”
“Perhaps ’tis the tale of ‘The Twa Dogs,’” hazarded Lady Glencairn. Eppy laughed gleefully and shook her head.
“Tell us the name, madam; we’re no children!” roared Sir William, glaring at her like an angry bull.
“You’re so gruff,” pouted Eppy reproachfully. “Do you all give it up?” They nodded. “Well, then, don’t be shocked,” and she shook her finger at them coquettishly; then leaning forward she whispered loudly, “’Tis entitled ‘To a Louse.’”