Suddenly her mood changed, or appeared to do so, and seating herself at a rickety old piano, which Florian had not noticed before, she, while eyeing him waggishly, proceeded to sing a once-popular flash song, long since forgotten in England, and probably taken out by some ancient settler, generations ago, to the Cape Colony:
'If I was a wife, and my dearest life
Took it into his noddle to die,
Ere I took the whim to be buried with him,
I think I'd know very well why.
'If poignant my grief, I'd search for relief—
Not sink with the weight of my care:
A salve might be found, no doubt, above ground,
And I think I know very well where.
'Another kind mate should give me what fate
Would not from the former allow;
With him I'd amuse the hours you abuse,
And I think I'd know very well how.
''Tis true I'm a maid, and so't may be said
No judge of the conjugal lot;
Yet marriage, I ween, has a cure for the spleen,
And I think I know very well what.'
This she sang with a skill and power that savoured of the music hall, and then tried her blandishments again to induce Florian to drink of the fiery squareface; but he resisted all her inducement to take 'just one little glass more.'
Why was she so anxious that he should imbibe that treacherous spirit, which he would have to pay for? And why did the landlord, who certainly seemed full of curiosity about him, leave him so entirely in her society?
Suddenly the voice of the latter was heard shouting, 'Nan, Nan!'
'That is Josh,' said she impatiently; 'bother him, what does he want now? Josh is getting old, and nothing improves by age.'
'Except brandy,' said Florian smiling, as he now hoped to be rid of her.