"Be aisy an' list to a chune
That's sung uv bowld Tim, the dragoon;
Sure, 'twas he'd niver miss
To be stalin' a kiss--
Or a brace--by the light uv the moon,
Aroon,
Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"
"Really!" murmured Miss Limpenny. The keys of the decorous "Collard"
clashed as they had never clashed before. The guests, at first
shocked and startled, began to be carried away with the reckless
swing of the music. The Vicar stared for a moment, and then began
gradually to nod his head to the measure.
"You must sing the last line in chorus, please," said Mrs.
Goodwyn-Sandys from the piano--
"Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"
It was sung timidly at first. Nothing daunted, the performer plunged
into the next verse--
"Rest his sowl in the arms uv owld Nick!
For he's gone from the land uv the quick:
But he's still makin' luv
To the leddies above,
An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick,
Avick,
Niver fear but he'll tache 'em the thrick!"
There was no doubt this time. By the spirit of her mad singing, by
some demon that rode upon her full and liquid voice, the whole
company seemed possessed. Miss Limpenny looked furtively towards the
Vicar.
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