A girl that’s half so charming
As Sophronisba Jane.
“And if I were a monarch,
Instead of humble swain,
I still would seek to win the love
Of Sophronisba Jane.”
“How sweet!” murmured Melinda. “Indeed you are a true poet, Mr. Howard.”
“Thank you,” said Walter, who had hard work not to laugh, knowing himself what ridiculous rubbish his verses were.
“By Jove! that’s my style of poetry,” said Mr. Jones, energetically. “I like that better than yours, Melindy.”
“Oh, it don’t compare with your sister’s, Mr. Jones,” said Walter, modestly. “It doesn’t soar to such lofty heights.”