`` You know Felicity has a birthday next week , '' he said , `` and I want to write her an ode . '' `` A -- a what ? '' I gasped . `` An ode , '' repeated Peter , gravely . `` It 's poetry , you know . I 'll put it in Our Magazine . '' `` But you ca n't write poetry , Peter , '' I protested . `` I 'm going to try , '' said Peter stoutly . `` That is , if you think she wo n't be offended at me . '' `` She ought to feel flattered , '' I replied . `` You never can tell how she 'll take things , '' said Peter gloomily . `` Of course I ai n't going to sign my name , and if she ai n't pleased I wo n't tell her I wrote it . Do n't you let on . '' I promised I would n't and Peter went off with a light heart . He said he meant to write two lines every day till he got it done . Cupid was playing his world-old tricks with others than poor Peter that spring . Allusion has been made in these chronicles to one , Cyrus Brisk , and to the fact that our brown-haired , soft-voiced Cecily had found favour in the eyes of the said Cyrus . Cecily did not regard her conquest with any pride . On the contrary , it annoyed her terribly to be teased about Cyrus . She declared she hated both him and his name .
She was as uncivil XXXXX him as sweet Cecily could be to anyone , but the gallant Cyrus was nothing daunted .
On about at if in of that till to with