The dinner passed off without any mishap, as Thompson had seen enough life to keep him all right at table, while his natural gallantry and devotion to the fair sex caused him to show all proper attention to the dark-eyed young lady seated by his side. When the ladies had withdrawn, his kind host lit a cigar, having in vain tried to induce his guest to do the same, and after a little chat asked him what he thought of the young lady. "She's a real fine lady, but I'm afraid of her." "Nonsense, Thompson. Why?" "Well, she's got a sort of a half-laughing sort of way, as much as to say she thinks I'm a poor sort of a imitation of a reg'ler warrant-officer, and she sees through it." "Chut, chut; let us join the ladies." Jerry entered the drawing-room upon tip-toe, as the dark-eyed one was playing the piano, and having taken his seat on the chair furthest from the instrument, fixed his eyes upon her, and watched the motion of her fingers in a curiously anxious manner. When she had finished she turned to him and exclaimed, "Can you sing, Mr. Thompson?" "Me, miss?" "Surely you can. Don't you know one song?" "No, miss. Not what you'd call songs." "Not a sea-song?" "Well, I know 'The Gal I left behind me,' and 'Hearts of Oak,' and 'Tom Bowline,' and--" "Oh, do sing 'Tom Bowline,' Mr. Thompson." After much persuasion Jerry got over his bashfulness; then, in a full mellow voice, sang that fine old sea-song, and ere the last verse was completed he heard the ladies sobbing as if their hearts would break. When he had finished, the younger lady wiped her eyes, and looked at him with the greatest admiration. He was no longer the bashful-awkward sailor, but a man of genuine tenderness of heart, and she began fully to understand how it was that her friends thought so highly of him. As he sang his voice seemed filled with pity for some lost shipmate, and it would have been an unsympathetic ear upon which such a song fell without calling forth some pitying response; and the young lady, though not intending to do so, looked at the acting boatswain in such a manner, that a much less susceptible person would have easily understood her meaning. Jerry began to feel uncomfortable. I wish she wouldn't stare at me so, he thought. I'll ask her to sing. "Please, miss, as it's my call, may I be so bold as to ask _you_ to sing?" "What song would you like, Mr. Thompson? I am almost ashamed to sing after you." "Anything, miss; they are all pretty." Not without a touch of mischief in her voice, the dark-eyed one sang "Love not." Now, had she wished to captivate the sailor she could not have chosen a more inappropriate song. When she commenced Thompson was all attention, but at the words "Love flings a halo round the fair one's head,"