"That song is old as the hills."
"It may be so," I retorted, "but the best songs are old."
"It was very good," said the Count, who really seemed pleased.
This seemed to annoy the widow.
"You are very good-natured, Count, to compliment such a rustic performance," she said.
"But, signora, I mean it."
"Well, let it pass! She did her best, poor thing!"
"She is a nice girl."
"Oh, Count, she is only a young woman from Macy's. She was born in the country, and raised among cabbages and turnips."
He seemed puzzled, but evidently regarded Ruth with favor.