A home on the rolling deep,
Where the scattered waters rage,
And the winds their revels keep.
And the winds (bing, bing),
And the winds (bing, bing),
And the winds their revels keep.”
“I just love that bing, bing part,” said Nancy, drawing in a deep breath. “May I go over some evening, mother, and hear them play?”
“Indeed, you may,” Mrs. Carey replied heartily. “For they seem to be as warm-hearted and well-mannered a lot of girls as I ever did see, and the Captain, your father, agrees with me.”
“They’re not like those Vaughan girls from the hotel,” Tom said, stopping his whistling long enough to join in the conversation. “They had that knockabout of theirs out on the bay to-day, and when I sent out a hail at them they never even waved a hand. Some folks haven’t any more sociability than a mosquito.”
“They waved to Polly, Tom,” Nancy said; “but then I do believe the fish would stand up on their tails and waggle their fins at her, if she sang out to them.”