private ear. "A dear, worthy fellow, but--well, what would you have?--of
no spirit." Alison bit her lip.

"Oh, Mr. Waverton," Harry protested, "indeed, I am proud to be the cause
of such wit."

Colonel Boyce stared at his son with an enigmatic frown. Alison's eyes
brightened. But Geoffrey suspected no guile. "Not witty thyself, dear
lad, but the cause of wit in others, eh? Odds life, Harry, you are
invaluable."

"'Tis your kindness for me makes you think so, Mr. Waverton. And, to be
sure, I could ask no more than to amuse your lady."

Alison said tartly, "Oh, it takes little to amuse me, sir."

"I am sure, ma'am," Harry agreed meekly.

"It's a happy nature." and he bowed to Geoffrey, humbly congratulating
him on a lady of such simple tastes.

Geoffrey, who had now had enough of his good tutor, eliminated him by a
compliment or so on Alison's voice and the demand that she should sing
again. He found her in an awkward temper. She would not sing this, she
would not sing that, she found faults in every song known to Mr.
Waverton. Yet in a fashion she was encouraging. For this new method of
keeping him off was governed by a queer adulation of him: no song in the
world could be worth his distinguished attention; her little voice must
be to his accomplished ear vain and ludicrous; the kind things he was so
good as to say were vastly gratifying, to be sure, but they were merely