“Wait till the morning;” said the Sergeant, “and meanwhile we’ll have a song.”
At this moment Mr. Bumpkin put in an appearance; for although he had been enjoying himself with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes, he thought it prudent to have a peep and see how “thic Joe wur gettin on.”
CHAPTER XX.
Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old song—the Sergeant becomes quite a convivial companion and plays dominoes.
The Sergeant, having finished his repast, again had recourse to his pipe, and was proceeding to light it when Mr. Bumpkin appeared in the room.
“We be gwine to have a song, maister,” said Joe.
“Give us a song, governor,” said half-a-dozen voices.
“Ay, do, maister,” says Joe; “thee sings a good un, I knows, for I ha eerd thee often enough at arvest oames: gie us a song, maister.”
Now if there was one thing Mr. Bumpkin thought he was really great at besides ploughing the straightest and levellest furrow, it was singing the longest and levellest song. He had been known to sing one, which, with its choruses, had lasted a full half hour, and then had broken down for lack of memory.
On the present occasion he would have exhibited no reluctance, having had a glass or two in the Bar Parlour had he not possessed those misgivings about the Sergeant. He looked furtively at that officer as though it were better to give him no chance. Seeing, however, that he was smoking quietly, and almost in a forlorn manner by himself, his apprehensions became less oppressive.