Mrs. Stewart: I’ll lend it to you.
Walter Scott: Will you really? Thank you. He has got lovely eyes, hasn’t he? I should write poems if I had eyes like that. Couldn’t you sing again?
Mrs. Ferguson: Yes, please do, Mrs. Stewart.
Miss Taylor: Something with a little religion in it.
Mrs. Stewart (after a glance at this, sings):
Her flowing locks, the raven’s wing,
Adown her neck and bosom hing;
How sweet unto that breast to cling
And round that neck entwine her!
Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew,