Jin never made any fuss about her singing.
"What shall it be?" she asked Uncle Joseph, who never knew one tune from another, but vastly enjoyed the proprietorship inferred by such an appeal.
"Oh, that pretty air from the—the——Well, you know the one I mean; or, or—anything you please, dear Miss Ross; they're all charming." And Uncle Joseph passed his cigar-case round, with the look of a man who had acquitted himself handsomely of a difficult and delicate task.
"I'll sing you a new one I got the other day," said Jin, flashing another of her dangerous glances through the smoke that was curling round Frank Vanguard's comely face. "It's called, 'Yes—I like you,' and there's a moral in it. Thanks! It does best without an accompaniment," and, looking very bewitching as she pushed her hair back, she began:
"YES—I LIKE YOU."
When I meet you, can I greet you
With a haughty little stare?
Scarcely glancing, where you're prancing,
By me on the chestnut mare.
Still dissembling, though I'm trembling,
Thus you know we're trained and taught.
For I like you, doesn't it strike you?
Like you more than p'raps I ought!
Yes—I like you, doesn't it strike you?
Like you more than p'raps I ought!
When I meet you, must I treat you
As a stranger, calm and cold,
Softer feeling, half revealing,—
Are you waiting to be told?
D' you suppose, sir, that a rose, sir,
Picks itself to reach your breast?
And I like you, doesn't it strike you?
Like you more than all the rest.
Yes—I like you, &c.
When I meet you, I could eat you,
Dining with my Uncle John;
Sitting next you, so perplexed, you
Ought to guess my heart is gone.
While I'm choking, 'tis provoking
You can munch, and talk, and drink,
Though I like you, doesn't it strike you?
Like you more than you may think!
Yes—I like you, &c.
When I meet you, I could beat you,
For your solemn face and glum.
Don't you see, sir, you are free, sir,
I have all the worst to come!
Mother's warning, sisters' scorning—
Qualms of prudence, pride and pelf.
Oh! I like you—doesn't it strike you?
Like you more than life itself!
Yes—I like you, &c.
There was no mistaking the hint conveyed in this touching ditty; but whether he accepted it or not, the song was hardly concluded ere Frank took leave of the company. Certain regimental duties, he said, looking hard at Helen, required his presence in barracks, and therefore he had come on horseback, so as to return at his own time. He regretted it extremely, of course. He had spent a delightful day, and could not thank his entertainers enough. This civil little speech he addressed indeed to Uncle Joseph and Mrs. Lascelles, but his eyes sought Miss Hallaton's the while, and their imploring expression cut her to the heart.