"Will you sing those parts?" he asked courteously.
She began again:—
"'Oh, thou bloomin' milk-white dove
To whom I've given my love,
Do not ever thus reprove
My consancy.
"'For if not mine, dear boy,
Oh, snowy-breasted pearl,
May I never from the fair
With life return.'
"It ought to be 'girl' to rhyme with 'pearl,' but, you see, he isn't a girl, so I made up 'boy' myself. Doesn't the song fit him beautifully?"
The door had been left ajar; a small black nose inserted itself in the crack with a pathetic snort.
"It is your little dog!" Herr Schmidt exclaimed. "Come in! Come in!" He gave a great fat laugh. "Come in!"
Sheila Pat slipped to the floor.
"She's shy," she explained, and went and opened the door wide.
Kate Kearney trotted in, sleek and black, giving little scriggles of love as she came. She rubbed herself against the Atom's legs, she licked her hand, she lifted superlatively great innocent eyes.
"Kate Kearney, what is it you've been doin'?" the Atom said.