"Well, I do want fresh milk," urged Peter, obstinately.
"You have no eye for beauty, Peter," said Jack, gravely; "look at the grandeur of the scene around you."
"It's very pretty."
"Pretty!" cried Philip, laughing. "I once heard a young lady call the Hallelujah Chorus pretty. You must be a relation of that young lady, Peter."
"Of all the adjectives in the English language," said Duval, with mock solemnity, "the one I most detest is 'pretty.'"
"Especially when it is applied to a certain damsel, whereof we wot," interjected Philip, mischievously; whereat Jack blushed and the others laughed.
"If Peter is so enthusiastic over all this," said Tim, waving his hand to indicate the same, "what will he say when he sees Doña Serafina."
"Bother Doña Serafina," retorted the doctor, growing red. "I wish you fellows would stop roasting me on the subject."
"She isn't a subject, Peter, but an object. Forty-five, and as plain as Tim there!"
"Is it me you mean, Jack. Why, I'm not bad looking, at all. I've had that same on the best female authority. We can't all be heathen gods, like you and Philip."