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"What," laughed Philip, "crying? Because Phonodoree never!" Kate leapt up with averted face. "What nonsense you are talking!" she said. "There are tears in your eyes, though," said Philip. "No wonder, either. You're so ridiculous. And if I'm meant for an old maid, you're meant for an old bachelor and quite right too!" "Oh, it is, is it?" "Yes, indeed.
"Sunk!" said Philip, laughing and clapping his hands. "You're doomed to be an old maid, Kate. Phonodoree says so." "Cruel Brownie! I'm vexed that I bothered with him," said Kate, dropping her lip. Then nodding to her reflection in the water where the willow bough had disappeared, she said, "Poor little Katey! He might have given you something else. Anything but that dear, eh?"
She remembered some of her mother's French songs, and seeing a street-singer one day, she established herself in the market-place in that character, with grown people on their knees around her, ready to fall on her and kiss her and call her Phonodoree, the fairy. But she did not forget to go round for the ha'pennies either.
This being the first of your twenty-one that you have spent from home, I will be thinking of you all the day through, and when night comes, and I smoke a pipe by the study fire, I know I shall be leaving the blind up that I may see the evening star and remember the happy birthdays long ago, when somebody, who was so petted and spoiled, used to say she had just come down from it, having dressed herself in some strange and grand disguises, and told us she was Phonodoree the fairy.
"An ordeal is it?" said Philip. "Hush! Be quiet, still, or little Phonodoree wont listen. Hush, now hush!"
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