So 'tinkle, tinkle, twang, twang, THRUM!' went the industrious and
accomplished Puddock's guitar; and the voices of the enamoured swains
kept tolerable tune and time; and Puddock would say, 'Don't you think,
Captain Cluffe, 'twould perhapth go better if we weren't to try that
shake upon A. Do let's try the last two barth without it;' and 'I'm
thorry to trouble you, but jutht wonth more, if you pleathe--
'"But hard ith the chathe my thad heart mutht purthue,
While Daphne, thweet Daphne, thtill flieth from my view."'
Puddock, indeed, had strict notions about rehearsing, and, on occasions
like this, assumed managerial airs, and in a very courteous way took the
absolute command of Captain Cluffe, who sang till he was purple, and his
belts and braces cracked again, not venturing to mutiny, though he
grumbled a little aside.
So when Dangerfield passed Cluffe's lodging again, returning on his way
into Chapelizod, the songsters were at it still. And he smiled his
pleasant smile once more, and nodded at poor old Cluffe, who this time
was very seriously put out, and flushed up quite fiercely, and said,
almost in a mutiny--
'Hang it, Puddock, I believe you'd keep a fellow singing ballads over
the street all day.
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