Nobody, however, noticed as yet the signs and tokens of internal revolution in the curate's face. Everybody was occupied in entreating everybody else to sing. Miss Milroy appealed to the founder of the feast. "Do sing something, Mr. Armadale," she said; "I should so like to hear you!""If you once begin, sir," added the cheerful Pedgift, "you'll find it get uncommonly easy as you go on. Music is a science which requires to be taken by the throat at starting.""With all my heart," said Allan, in his good-humored way. "I know lots of tunes, but the worst of it is, the words escape me. Iwonder if I can remember one of Moore's Melodies? My poor mother used to be fond of teaching me Moore's Melodies when I was a boy.""Whose melodies?" asked Mrs. Pentecost. "Moore's? Aha! I know Tom Moore heart.""Perhaps in that case you will he good enough to help me, ma'am, if my memory breaks down," rejoined Allan. "I'll take the easiest melody in the whole collection, if you'll allow me. Everybody knows it--'Eveleen's Bower.' ""I'm familiar, in a general sort of way, with the national melodies of England, Scotland, and Ireland," said Pedgift Junior.
"I'll accompany you, sir, with the greatest pleasure. This is the sort of thing, I think." He seated himself cross-legged on the roof of the cabin, and burst into a complicated musical improvisation wonderful to hear--a mixture of instrumental flourishes and groans; a jig corrected by a dirge, and a dirge enlivened by a jig. "That's the sort of thing," said young Pedgift, with his smile of supreme confidence. "Fire away, sir!"Mrs. Pentecost elevated her trumpet, and Allan elevated his voice. "Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower--" He stopped; the accompaniment stopped; the audience waited. "It's a most extraordinary thing," said Allan; "I thought I had the next line on the tip of my tongue, and it seems to have escaped me.
I'll begin again, if you have no objection. 'Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower--' "" 'The lord of the valley with false vows came,' " said Mrs.
Pentecost.
"Thank you, ma'am," said Allan. "Now I shall get on smoothly.
'Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower, the lord of the valley with false vows came. The moon was shining bright--' ""No!" said Mrs. Pentecost.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," remonstrated Allan. " 'The moon was.
shining bright--' "
"The moon wasn't doing anything of the kind," said Mrs.
Pentecost.
Pedgift Junior, foreseeing a dispute, persevered _sotto voce_with the accompaniment, in the interests of harmony.
"Moore's own words, ma'am," said Allan, "in my mother's copy of the Melodies.""Your mother's copy was wrong," retorted Mrs. Pentecost. "Didn't I tell you just now that I knew Tom Moore by heart?"Pedgift Junior's peace-making concertina still flourished and groaned in the minor key.
"Well, what _did_ the moon do?" asked Allan, in despair.
