“What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle”—
Festus. (Interrupting.) I beg your pardon: “twinkle.”
Stella. No, sir: “tinkle.”
Festus. But I am sure it is “twinkle.”
Stella. Can’t I believe my own eyes?
Festus. Not unless they “twinkle.”
Stella. Look for yourself. (Shows him the book.)
Festus. My stars! it is “tinkle.” I beg your pardon. Go on.