“Oh, do you call that talking of something else? What an insatiate organizer you are! You organize shuffleboard; you organize public worship; you want to organize musicales. She would have to do all your music for you.” “I think she would like to go in for it,” said Dunham. “It must be a pleasure to exercise such a gift as that, and now that it's come out in the way it has, it would be rather awkward for us not to recognize it.” Staniford refused point-blank to be a party to the new enterprise, and left Dunham to his own devices at dinner, where he proposed the matter. “If you had my Persis here, now,” observed Captain Jenness, “with her parlor organ, you could get along.” “I wish Miss Jenness was here,” said Dunham, politely. “But we must try to get on as it is. With Miss Blood's voice to start with, nothing ought to discourage us.” Dunham had a thin and gentle pipe of his own, and a fairish style in singing, but with his natural modesty he would not offer himself as a performer except in default of all others. “Don't you sing, Mr. Hicks?” “Anything to oblige a friend,” returned Hicks. “But I don't sing--before Miss Blood.” “Miss Blood,” said Staniford, listening in ironic safety, “you overawe us all. I never did sing, but I think I should want to make an effort if you were not by.” “But don't you--don't you play something, anything?” persisted Dunham, in desperate appeal to Hicks. “Well, yes,” the latter admitted, “I play the flute a little.” “Flutes on water!” said Staniford. Hicks looked at him in sulky dislike, but as if resolved not to be put down by him. “And have you got your flute with you?” demanded Dunham, joyously. “Yes, I have,” replied Hicks. “Then we are all right. I think I can carry a part, and if you will play to Miss Blood's singing--” “Try it this evening, if you like,” said the other. “Well, ah--I don't know. Perhaps--we hadn't better begin this evening.” Staniford laughed at Dunham's embarrassment. “You might have a sacred concert, and Mr. Hicks could represent the shawms and cymbals with his flute.” Dunham looked sorry for Staniford's saying this. Captain Jenness stared at him, as if his taking the names of these scriptural instruments in vain were a kind of blasphemy, and Lydia seemed puzzled and a little troubled. “I didn't think of its being Sunday,” said Hicks, with what Staniford felt to be a cunning assumption of manly frankness, “or any more Sunday than usual; seems as if we had had a month of Sundays already since we sailed. I'm not much on religion myself, but I shouldn't like to interfere with other people's principles.” Staniford was vexed with himself for his scornful pleasantry, and vexed with the others for taking it so seriously and heavily, and putting him so unnecessarily in the wrong. He was angry with Dunham, and he said to Hicks, “Very just sentiments.” “I am glad you like them,” replied Hicks, with sullen apprehension of the offensive tone.