"'To the complexion?' suggested Macassar, again looking round as best he might over the bulwark of his collar.
"Crinoline laughed slightly; it was perhaps hardly more than a simper, and turning her lovely eyes from her work, she said, 'Well, to the complexion, if you will. What would you gentlemen say if we ladies were to be careless of our complexions?'
"Macassar merely sighed gently—perhaps he had no fitting answer; perhaps his heart was too full for him to answer. He sat with his eye fixed on his hat, which still dangled in his hand; but his mind's eye was far away.
"'Is it in his office?' thought Crinoline to herself; 'or is it here? Is it anywhere?'
"'Have you learnt the song I sent you? said he at last, waking, as it were, from a trance.
"'Not yet,' said she—'that is, not quite; that is, I could not sing it before strangers yet.'
"'Strangers!' said Macassar; and he looked at her again with an energy that produced results not beneficial either to his neck or his collar.
"Crinoline was delighted at this expression of feeling. 'At any rate it is somewhere,' said she to herself; 'and it can hardly be all at his office.'
"'Well, I will not say strangers,' she said out loud; 'it sounds—it sounds—I don't know how it sounds. But what I mean is, that as yet I've only sung it before mamma!'"
'I declare I don't know which is the biggest fool of the two,' said Uncle Bat, very rudely.' As for him, if I had him on the forecastle of a man-of-war for a day or two, I'd soon teach him to speak out.'