"There is a musical line for you? 'And do not stoppe thine eares.' I would rather have written that line than take Quebec.
"'O Cupide, graunt this my request,
And do not stoppe thine eares,
That she may feel within her breste
The paines of my dispaire.'"
John ended upon a mournful quaver.
"Phillida has pangs of a different sort, thank you," said Phyllis, coming into the sitting-room. "Pangs of hunger. Good-morning, Genevieve. Is breakfast served? Yes, indeed, it is a beautiful morning."
"Heartless creature!" said John. He was putting on his coat now.
"Good-morning, fair Genevieve. Wags the world well with you? M-m-m. Doesn't the bacon smell good?"
"Poor Harpalus," said Phyllis, pouring tea. "I was very fond of Harpalus."
John's eyes were mischievous.
"Why didn't you propose to him, then?" he asked, accenting the second pronoun.
Phyllis threatened him with a buttered muffin.