"Sweetheart?"

"Yes, Alonzo?"

"Please don't sing that any more this week--try something modern."

The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, and
the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the heavy
folds of the velvet window-curtains. Alonzo entered and flew to the
telephone. Said he:

"Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?"

"Something modern?" asked she, with sarcastic bitterness.

"Yes, if you prefer."

"Sing it yourself, if you like!"

This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said:

"Rosannah, that was not like you."

"I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you,
Mr. Fitz Clarence."

"Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my
speech."