Stella.
“How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air”—
Festus. No, no: frosty,—frosty air.
Stella. No, sir: it’s icy air.
Festus. You are mistaken: “frosty.”
Stella. Am I? Look for yourself.
Festus. Well, I declare! It is, I see, icy. I beg your pardon. Go on.
Stella. I see, I see. You are bent on interrupting me. What do you mean, sir?
Festus. What can you expect, if you don’t know how to read?