“To take our sorrows mournfully,
Augmenteth but our malady;
But taking sorrows merrily
Maketh them smaller, verily—
Be merry, friends.”
And now the notes of a flute came to her from afar, half in accompaniment of her tune:
“Let the world slide, let the world go;
A fig for care and a fig for woe!
If I can’t pay, why, I can owe;
And death makes equal the high and low—