"Wot's wrong with my countenance?" demanded the incensed Pessimist.
"There ain't nothin' right that I kin see," insisted the Optimist.
"'E got it at the same shop as yours came from," the Philosopher gently reminded him.
"Wherever 'e got it from 'e was 'ad," insisted the Optimist.
"Well, if you call your eyes blue—" began the Pessimist.
"I don't," interrupted the other. "But she did, and that was good enough."
"They say them extry small ones is colour-blind and stone deaf," stated the Pessimist. "It's along o' the life they lead."
"I've 'eard tell the same o' you," returned the Optimist, "but I never pays no 'eed to gossip."
Again the Philosopher interposed.
"We'll take it she wasn't neither," he said soothingly. "And anyway you 'appened to be to 'er taste and she 'appened to be to yours."