"My love he was a draper's clerk, He came to see me after dark: Around the Park we used to stray To hear the lily-white bandsmen play.
CHORUS OF DRAPER'S CLERKS.
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound, My love lies buried underground!"
A faint smile came over the lady's face as she heard these nonsensical words from one in the garb of a priest. Still, she reflected that while it was his voice that was singing, his mind was no doubt intent on something else.
"By-the-bye," resumed the priest, "as I'm asking questions, I should like to ask one more. May I?"
"Most certainly," said the lady. "What is it?"
"Well, your name, you know. It's awkward to be as we are. Now, if I were shot, and wanted you to help me, I shouldn't know what to call you."
The lady smiled.
"My name is Talbot," said she.
"Ah—Mrs. Talbot," said the priest; "thanks."