“With crests on our harness and breechin, In a carriage and four we shall roll, With a splendid French cook in the kitchen, If we only succeed to find coal, Coal! If we only are sure to find coal.” “A barcarolle, I declare,” said Lord Culduff, entering. “It was a good inspiration led me up here.” A jolly roar of laughter at his mistake welcomed him; and Cutty, with an aside, cried out, “He's deaf as a post,” and continued,-- “If we marry, we 'll marry a beauty, If single we 'll try and control Our tastes within limits of duty, And make ourselves jolly with coal, Coal! And make ourselves jolly with coal. “They may talk of the mines of Golcondar, Or the shafts of Puebla del Sol; But to fill a man's pocket, I wonder If there's anything equal to coal, Coal! If there 's anything equal to coal. “At Naples we 'll live on the Chiaja, With our schooner-yacht close to the Mole, And make daily picknickings to Baja, If we only come down upon coal, Coal! If we only come down upon coal.” “One of the fishermen's songs,” said Lord Culduff, as he beat time on the table. “I 've passed many a night on the Bay of Naples listening to them.” And a wild tumultuous laugh now convulsed the company, and Cutbill, himself overwhelmed by the absurdity, rushed to the door, and made his escape without waiting for more. CHAPTER XIII. AT THE COTTAGE. Julia L'Estrange was busily engaged in arranging some flowers in certain vases in her little drawing-room, and, with a taste all her own, draping a small hanging lamp with creepers, when Jack Bramleigh appeared at the open window, and leaning on the sill, cried out, “Good-morning.” “I came over to scold you, Julia,” said he. “It was very cruel of you to desert us last evening, and we had a most dreary time of it in consequence.” “Come round and hold this chair for me, and don't talk nonsense.” “And what are all these fine preparations for? You are decking out your room as if for a village fête,” said he, not moving from his place nor heeding her request. “I fancy that young Frenchman who was here last night,” said she, saucily, “would have responded to my invitation if I had asked him to hold the chair I was standing on.” “I've no doubt of it,” said he, gravely. “Frenchmen are vastly more gallant than we are.” “Do you know, Jack,” said she again, “he is most amusing?” “Very probably.” “And has such a perfect accent; that sort of purring French one only hears from a Parisian?” “I am charmed to hear it.” “It charmed me to hear it, I assure you. One does so long for the sounds that recall bright scenes and pleasant people: one has such a zest for the most commonplace things that bring back the memory of very happy days.” “What a lucky Frenchman to do all this!”