“It was love, all-powerful love, which induced him, maiden,” replied the Dominie, turning, with a smiling eye, to Mary.
“’Bove my comprehension altogether,” replied old Tom.
“Human natur’,” muttered Stapleton, with the pipe still between his lips.
“Not the first vessels that have run foul in a fog,” observed young Tom.
“No, boy; but generally there ar’n’t much love between them at those times. But, come, now that we can breathe again, suppose I give you a song. What shall it be, young woman, a sea ditty, or something spooney?”
“Oh, something about love, if you’ve no objection, sir,” said Mary, appealing to the Dominie.
“Nay, it pleaseth me maiden, and I am of thy mind. Friend Dux, let it be Anacreontic.”
“What the devil’s that?” cried old Tom, lifting up his eyes, and taking the pipe out of his mouth.
“Nothing of your own, father, that’s clear; but something to borrow, for it’s to be on tick,” replied Tom.
“Nay, boy, I would have been understood that the song should refer to women or wine.”