“You are rather triangular.”
“Ha! ha!” said Dick, laughing bitterly. “That’s it. I’m ugly, and they hate me for it!”
Bill Bobstay was sorry he had spoken so unkindly.
“Well, Dick,” said he, putting down his embroidery, “we wouldn’t go to hurt any fellow creature’s feelings, but, setting personal appearance on one side, you can’t expect a person with such a name as ‘Dick Deadeye’ to be a popular character—now, can you?”
“No,” said Dick, sadly, “it’s asking too much. It’s human nature, and I don’t complain!”
At this moment, a beautiful tenor voice was heard singing up in the rigging:
The Nightingale
Loved the pale moon’s bright ray
And told his tale
In his own melodious way,