"Once upon a time," began the musician vaguely, and his thoughts strayed away to the lithesome figure swaying to and fro on the broken wall, and he tried hard to realize his crestfallen condition now that she had refused him.
"Yes, daddy, yes; go on, please, my daddy: are you forgotten the end of my story, daddy dear?" pleaded the restless spirit in his arms.
"Oh, dear, once upon a time there was—there was—oh, confound it all, there was a beautiful lady, wasn't there?" he began wearily.
"A booful lady? Welly booful, daddy?"
"Very beautiful, my son."
"Oh," solemnly, "and what sort of daddy did she have?"
"Eh, what? Daddy? Oh—she didn't have one," said the musician, oblivious of morality; he was going through an eloquent speech in his mind which he might have said in the castle meadow if only he had not been so absurdly nervous.
"Oh," said the baby voice, growing shrill with interest, "didn't she never have no daddy at all?"
Of course, thought the musician, if he had said that to her instead of stuttering over a few commonplaces she would have found him irresistible at once.
"Daddy, dear," implored Sonny, tugging at his coat suggestively.