"Well reeled off, Billy," cried Jemmy Ducks, finishing with a flourish
on his fiddle, and a refrain of the air. I don't think we shall meet
_him_ and his dog at Fidler's Green--heh!"

"No," replied Short, taking his pipe from his lip.

"No, no, Jemmy, a seaman true means one true in heart as well as in
knowledge; but, like a blind fiddler, he'll be led by his dog
somewhere else."

"From vere de dog did come from," observed Jansen.

The band now struck up again, and played a waltz--a dance new to our
country, but older than the heptarchy. Jansen, with his pipe in his
mouth, took one of the women by the waist, and steered round the room
about as leisurely as a capstern heaving up. Dick Short also took
another, made four turns, reeled up against a Dutchman who was doing it
with _sang froid_, and then suddenly left his partner and dropped into
his chair.

"I say, Jemmy," said Obadiah Coble, "why don't you give a girl a twist
round?"

"Because I can't, Oby; my compasses arn't long enough to describe a
circle. You and I are better here, old boy. I, because I've very little
legs, and you, because you havn't a leg to stand upon."

"Very true--not quite so young as I was forty years ago. Howsomever I