“ ‘I’ll tell thee how the maiden wept, Mrs. Boffin, When her true love was slain ma’am, And how her broken spirit slept, Mrs. Boffin, And never woke again ma’am. I’ll tell thee (if agreeable to Mr. Boffin) how the steed drew nigh, And left his lord afar; And if my tale (which I hope Mr. Boffin might excuse) should make you sigh, I’ll strike the light guitar.’ ”

“Correct to the letter!” said Mr. Boffin. “And I consider that the poetry brings us both in, in a beautiful manner.”