"O'ons! Captain," cried Blueskin, as he grumblingly obeyed the command; "if you've left off business yourself, you needn't interfere with other people."
"I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. Maggot; "but I don't see a spoon."
"I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed."
Blueskin, meanwhile, having drained and replenished his glass, commenced chaunting a snatch of a ballad:—
Once on a time, as I've heard tell.
In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell;
A carpenter he was by trade,
And money, I believe, he made.
With his foodle doo!
This carpenter he had a wife,
The plague and torment of his life,
Who, though she did her husband scold,
Loved well a woollen-draper bold.
With her foodle doo!
"I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. "You won't refuse it, Mr. Kneebone?"
"He'd better not," muttered Blueskin.
"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass.
"The speedy union of Thames Darrell with Winifred Wood," replied Jack.