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.