"Where the lips of Johnson smile,

There's the land of Cherry Isle.

Other fish, other fish, Fish I fry.

Stately Johnson, come and buy!"

"How can you," asked Kathleen, "be so aggravating?"

"I don't know," said Gerald, returning to prose.

"Want of sleep or intoxication of success, I mean. Come where no
one can hear us.

'Oh, come to some island where no one can hear,

And beware of the keyhole that's glued to an ear,'"

he whispered, opened the door suddenly, and there, sure enough,
was Eliza, stooping without. She flicked feebly at the wainscot
with a duster, but concealment was vain.

"You know what listeners never hear," said Jimmy severely.

"I didn't, then so there!" said Eliza, whose listening ears were
crimson. So they passed out, and up the High Street, to sit on the
churchyard wall and dangle their legs. And all the way Gerald's
lips were shut into a thin, obstinate line.