He did not notice the slight touch of indifference with which she assented; for when once she had heard that these compositions (whatever they might be) were not her father's writing, she was not anxious to become acquainted with them. But his concern, on the other hand, was to keep her interested and amused and friendly; and Cornelius Greene and his doings were at least something to talk about.
"The first one we think of calling 'Fortune's Wheel,'" said he; "and thus it goes:
'Trust not too much, if prosperous times do smile,
Nor yet despair of rising, if thou fall:
The Fatal Lady mingleth one with th' other,
And lets not fortune stay, but round turns all.'
And the other one—I know not how to call it yet—but Cornelius takes it to be the better of the two for his purpose; thus it is:
'Merrily sang the Ely monks
When rowed thereby Canute the King.
"Row near, my Knights, row near the land,
That we may hear the good monks sing."'
See you now how well it will go, Judith—Merrily sang—merrily sang—the Ely monks—the Ely monks—when rowed thereby—Canute the King!" said he, in a manner suggesting the air. "'Twill go excellent well for four voices, and Cornelius is already begun. In truth, 'twill be something new at our merry-meetings——"
"Ay, and what have you to say of your business, good Master Quiney?" the old dame interrupted, sharply. "Be you so busy with your tavern catches and your merry-makings that you have no thought of that?"
"Indeed, I have enough regard for that, good Mistress Hathaway," said he, in perfect good-humor; "and it goes forward safely enough. But methinks you remind me that I have tarried here as long as I ought; so now I will get me back to the town."
He half expected that Judith would go to the door with him; and when she had gone so far, he said,