The song ended abruptly as, opening the door, she beheld her lodger.
"Lordy Lord, Mr. Geoffrey," she exclaimed a little reproachfully, "whatever are you a-doin' of, up an' dressed an' not half-past five yet?"
"Enjoying the morning, Mrs. Trapes, and yearning for my breakfast."
"Ah, that's just like a man; they're almighty good yearners till they get what they yearns for—then they yearns for somethin' else—immediate!"
"Well, but I suppose women yearn too, sometimes, don't they?"
"Not they; women can only hope an' sigh an' languish an' break their hearts in silence, poor dears."
"What for?"
"Would a couple o' fresh eggs an' a lovely ham rasher soot ye?" enquired Mrs. Trapes.
"They will suit."
"Then I'll go and fry' em!"