"Can he be indifferent to me? No, surely he will be only too glad to marry me," thought the boatswain's widow, "but I'll be more distant, and draw him out."—"Would you like to have some music, Mr. Thompson?"
"Werry much indeed, mum. Have you a hand organ, or do that work by machinery?" inquired Jerry, pointing to a cottage piano, which stood on the other side of the room.
Mrs. Shever gave a peculiar little laugh, as if to hide her chagrin; then rising majestically, rustled to the piano, and having perpetrated some preliminary attempts, at last managed to finger her way through a simple air, although, in spite of her endeavours to check herself, she would every now and then audibly utter "one! two! three!" which caused Mr. Thompson to remark that she might just as well give him the whole of the words out loud, as he was fond of hearing a lady sing.
Having concluded the performance, which was the result of long study on her part, and much patience on that of her music mistress, the boatswain's widow returned to the sofa, and, notwithstanding the entreaty of her visitor, wisely declined to repeat what he called the ceremony.
Now, Mrs. Shever wanted to bring Jerry to a declaration; and, as she had invited Mary Ann and her husband to return to supper, having no doubt but that Mr. Thompson would propose to her before they arrived, began to get a little fidgetty, so, in order to lead him on, she asked why he had called upon her.
"Well, you see, my dear Mrs. Shever, wot with that poor gal a fainting in my cabin this morning—"
"Oh, false man, false man!" murmured the lady, bashfully reclining her head upon his shoulder.
"No, marm, I were not false."
"I know that, I know that. You are too noble, too generous to be false. It was her own fault."
"No, it warn't. How could she help losing her husband?"