The first allowance brought in was now despatched, and the bell rung, and double as much more ordered, to Vanslyperken’s great annoyance; but he was in the hands of the Philistines.  What made the matter worse, was, that the company grew every moment more uproarious, and there was no saying when they would stop.

“A song—­a song—­a song from Mr Vanslyperken,” cried one of the party.

“Hurrah! yes, a song from the jolly lieutenant.”

“I can’t sing,” replied Vanslyperken.

“You shall sing, by the piper who played before Moses,” said the virago; “if not, you shall sing out to some purpose;” and the red-hot poker was again brandished in her masculine fist, and she advanced to him, saying, “suppose we hargue that point?”

“Would you murder me, woman?”

“No; singing is no murder, but we ax a song, and a song we must have.”

“I don’t know one—­upon my honour I don’t,” cried Vanslyperken.

“Then, we’ll larn you.  And now you repeat after me.”

“‘Poll put her arms a-kimbo.’  Sing—­come, out with it.”  And the poker was again advanced.

“O God!” cried Vanslyperken.

“Sing, or by Heavens I’ll shorten your nose!  Sing, I say,” repeated the woman, advancing the poker so as actually to singe the skin.

“Take it away, and I will,” cried Vanslyperken, breathless.

“Well then, ‘Poll put her arms a-kimbo.’”

“‘Poll put her arms a-kimbo,’” repeated Vanslyperken.

“That’s saying, not singing,” cried the woman.  “Now again.  ’At the admiral’s house looked she.’”

“‘At the admiral’s house looked she,’” replied Vanslyperken, in a whining tone.

Thus, with the poker staring him in the face, was Vanslyperken made to repeat the very song for singing which he would have flogged Jemmy Ducks.  There was, however, a desperate attempt to avoid the last stanza.

     “I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old boy,
     Port Admiral, you be d——­d.”

Nothing but the tip of his nose actually burnt would have produced these last words; but fear overcame him, and at last they were repeated.  Upon which all the women shouted and shrieked with laughter, except Moggy, who continued sipping her port wine.

“Your good health, Mr Vanslyperken,” said Moggy, drinking to him.

Vanslyperken wiped the perspiration off his forehead, and made no reply.

“You call yourself a gentleman, and not drink the health of the lady of the house!” cried virago Mrs Slamkoe.  “I’ll hargue this point with you again.”

The same never-failing argument was used, and Mr Vanslyperken drank Mrs Salisbury’s health in a glass of the port wine which he was to have the pleasure of paying for.

“I must say, Mr Vanslyperken,” said Moggy, “it was very hard for to wish to flog my poor Jemmy for singing a song which you have just now been singing yourself.”