Poor Reddy repeated the last verse.
"Very charming, indeed!" said the doctor.
"You really like it?" said Reddy.
"Like?" said the doctor—"sir, like is a faint expression of what I think of that song. Moore had better look to his laurels, sir!"
"Oh, doctor!"
"Ah, you know yourself," said Growling.
"Then that last, doctor——?" said Reddy, inquiringly.
"Is your most successful achievement, sir; there is a mysterious shadowing forth of something in it which is very fine."
"You like it better than the 'Black Stone'?"
"Pooh! sir; the 'Black Stone,' if I may be allowed an image, is but ordinary paving, while that 'Rose of Silence' of yours might strew the path to Parnassus."