Festus. Not unless they “twinkle.”
Stella. Look for yourself. (Shows him the book.)
Festus. My stars! it is “tinkle.” I beg your pardon. Go on.
Stella.
“How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air”—
Festus. No, no: frosty,—frosty air.
Stella. No, sir: it’s icy air.
Festus. You are mistaken: “frosty.”
Stella. Am I? Look for yourself.
Festus. Well, I declare! It is, I see, icy. I beg your pardon. Go on.