"Ah! howld yer tongue, Joe," cried O'Connor, "sure the young man can only sing on the sharp kays; ain't he always sharpin' the tools, not to speak of his appetite?"
"You've a blunt way of speaking yourself, friend," said Dumsby, in a tone of reproof.
"Hallo! stop your jokes," cried the smith; "if you treat us to any more o' that sort o' thing we'll have ye dipped over the side, and hung up to dry at the end o' the mainyard. Fire away, Ruby, my tulip!"
"Ay, that's hit," said John Watt. "Gie us the girl ye left behind ye."
Ruby flushed suddenly, and turned towards the speaker with a look of surprise.
"What's wrang, freend? Hae ye never heard o' that sang?" enquired
Watt.
"O yes, I forgot," said Ruby, recovering himself in some confusion.
"I know the song—I—I was thinking of something—of——"
"The girl ye left behind ye, av coorse," put in O'Connor, with a wink.
"Come, strike up!" cried the men.
Ruby at once obeyed, and sang the desired song with a sweet, full voice, that had the effect of moistening some of the eyes present.