comprehensible to them. An idol must have their attributes: a
king must show his face now and then: a song must appeal to their
intelligence, to subdue them quite. This, as we know, is not the case in
the higher circles. Emilia may have divined it: possibly from the
very great respect with which her finale was greeted. Vigorous as the
"Brayvos" were, they sounded abashed: they lacked abandonment. In fact,
it was gratitude that applauded, and not enthusiasm. "Hillford don't
hear stuff like that, do 'em?" which was the main verbal encomium
passed, may be taken testificatorily as to this point.

"Dame! dame!" cried Emilia, finding her way quickly to one of the more
decently-bonneted women; "am I not glad to see you here! Did I please
you? And you, dear Farmer Wilson? I caught sight of you just as I was
finishing. I remember the song you like, and I want to sing it. I know
the tune, but the words! the words! what are the words? Humming won't
do."

"Ah, now!" quoth Farmer Wilson, pointing out the end of his pipe,
"that's what they'll swallow down; that's the song to make 'em kick.
Sing that, miss. Furrin songs 's all right enough; but 'Ale it is my
tipple, and England is my nation!' Let's have something plain and flat
on the surface, miss."

Dame Wilson jogged her husband's arm, to make him remember that talking
was his dangerous pastime, and sent abroad a petition for a song-book;
and after a space a very doggy-eared book, resembling a poodle of that
genus, was handed to her. Then uprose a shout for this song and that;
but Emilia fixed upon the one she had in view, and walked back to her
harp, with her head bent, perusing it attentively all the way. There,
she gave the book to Captain Gambier, and begged him to hold it open
before her, with a passing light of eyes likely to be rather disturbing
to a jealous spectator. The Captain seized the book without wincing,
and displayed a remarkable equanimity of countenance as he held it out,
according to direction. No sooner had Emilia struck a prelude of the
well-known air, than the interior of the booth was transfigured; legs
began to move, elbows jerked upward, fingers fillipped: the whole body
of them were ready to duck and bow, dance, and do her bidding she had
fairly caught their hearts. For, besides the pleasure they had in their
own familiar tune, it was wonderful to them that Emilia should know what
they knew. This was the marvel, this the inspiration. She smiled to see