The men who sat around were ready enough for a drink, but they had no mind for such dangerous toasts, and great was the relief when one shrewd fellow cried out, "Oh, quit your politics, Dick, and let us drink to the next voyage of _The Reformation_. And now do you give us a song, for there is none can sing like you when you can abstain from swearing long enough. But first, here's to our town, and I give you our rallying cry,--'Hey for Saint Mary's, and wives for us all!'" Ingle joined with good-humor in the ringing cheer that followed. "Here goes, then," he said, as the landlord brought in the tankards. "You may guzzle while I sing, and for the benefit of you family men who are so fond of shouting 'Wives for us all!' I'll make it a song of married life. 'Tis sweetly entitled _The Dumb Maid_, and runs thus,-- [Illustration (music score)] "'There was a country blade Who did wed a pretty maid, And he kindly conducted her Home, home, home. There in her beauty bright Lay his whole delight; But alack and alas, she was Dumb, dumb, dumb.' "Now, gentlemen, you might think this lucky husband would have been content with his good fortune, and let well enough alone; but no, he was for having a perfect wife--which was as if he would have had a white blackbird or a moral courtier or a wise king; so-- "'To the doctor he did her bring For to cut her chattering string, And he let her tongue on The run, run, run. In the morning she did rise, And she filled his house with cries, And she rattled in his ears like a Drum, drum, drum.' "Now the stupid oaf began to discover his blunder,--but perhaps you've had enough." Cries of "Go on! Go on!" "Well, then, listen to his fate and take warning,-- "'To the doctor he did go With his heart well filled with woe, Crying, "Doctor I am quite Undone, done, done. Now she's turned a scolding wife And I'm weary of my life, For I cannot make her hold Her tongue, tongue, tongue." "'The doctor thus did say-- "When she went from me away She was perfectly cured of being Dumb, dumb, dumb. But it's beyond the art of man, Let him do the best he can, For to make a scolding woman hold Her tongue, tongue, tongue."'" Roars of applause greeted the ending of the performance. In the midst of it Ingle crossed the room to the end of the table where Sheriff Ellyson was seated. "Come, Sheriff, since you and I are met, let us sit down at the further end of the board where our conversation may not disturb these gentlemen."