"But," persisted Billy Priske, after a dozen bars or so, "the latest thing to be mentioned was my appetite: and 'tis wonderful to me how you gentlemen are letting the conversation stray, this afternoon."
"The worst of a flute," said Mr. Badcock, withdrawing it from his lips with obvious reluctance, "and the objection commonly urged by its detractors, is that a man cannot blow upon it and sing at the same time."
"I don't say," said Billy, seriously, "as that mayn't be a reas'nable objection; only it didn't happen to be mine."
"You have heard the tune," said Mr. Badcock. "Now for the words—
"I attempt from love's sickness to fly, in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain."
"Bravo!" my father cried. "Mr. Badcock has hit it. You are in love,
Billy, and beyond a doubt."
"Be I?" said Billy, scratching his head. "Well, as the saying is, many an ass has entered Jerusalem."
CHAPTER XI.
WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER.
"We laid them aboard the larboard side—
With hey! with ho! for and a nonny no!
And we threw them into the sea so wide,
And alongst the Coast of Barbary."
The Sailor's Onely Delight.