"How far away shall I retire?" he inquired, so sad and crestfallen, that between amusement and annoyance she did not reply, but merely sat tapping with her pen and inspecting her letter. As she did not speak again, very cautiously—and holding up one hand as an unwelcome dog holds up one beseeching paw to ward off calamity—he ventured to seat himself on a bench outside the summer house. She was perfectly aware of the inimitable pantomime, and a violent desire to laugh seized her, but she only bit her lip and resolutely dipped her pen into the ink once more. She wrote obstinately, knowing all the while that she’d have to rewrite it. His excessive stillness began to get on her nerves; and, after a quarter of an hour’s preternatural silence, she could endure it no longer. "Jack!" "Dear lady?" he replied patiently. "Why don’t you say something?" "I was forbidden the exquisite consolation of noise." "It’s horribly hot and still out here. Why don’t the birds sing?" "They’re moulting, dear lady. All their little pin feathers have become unfastened, and their bills are probably full of pins while they make themselves tidy again." "So that is why they don’t sing in July?" she said. "That is why," he explained seriously. "Well, then, why don’t _you_ sing? _You_ are not untidy." "Nothing could suit my pensive and melancholy mood better," he said sadly. A moment later, sitting outside her door, he began with deep emotion to sing one of Kirk’s melting melodies: "_With head bowed low a dentist stood_ _Before his office chair;_ _A handsome lady customer_ _Into his eyes did stare._ _He tried to fake a careless smile_ _And hide his drooping jaw,_ _But all in vain because his guilt_ _Was plainly to be saw._ _His voice was choked with shame and fear,_ _He said, ’Forgive me, miss!’_ _But when he begged her pardon there_ _The lady then did hiss:_ _Chorus._ "’_Take back them teeth you made me! I_ _Won’t wear them in my face!_ _Go hang them in your parlor as_ _A badge of your disgrace._ _You swore them crowns was solid gold!_ _You’re false—like teeth and men!_ _Take back them teeth, you lobster!_ _Never speak to me again!_ _Take back—take ba-ack—take ba-a-a——_’" "Jack!" she exclaimed, "that is the most—most degraded thing I ever heard you utter!" "I’m accustoming you, by degrees, to my repertoire. With infinite precautions you will, in time, be able to endure much worse than this," he explained kindly. "Now, what shall we try next, dear lady? I have a little song called: ’Only a pint of shoe strings!’" "Don’t you dare attempt it! ... Jack, _please_ go away. Won’t you, when I ask it?" "She mutters the unthinkable," he said, shaking his head. "My music has unseated her reason. By and by she will begin to moan and revive."