“La! why so? how do you know, Mrs Ferguson?”

“Because a sheep never changes its name until after it is dead.  I shrewdly suspect you would like to change yours before.”—­(This was a hard hit.)

“As you have yours, Mrs Ferguson,” quietly answered Isabel, in support of her sister.

“Very fair on both sides,” said the colonel, bowing to the ladies, who sat together.  “Pray, Miss Laura, don’t talk of being a sheep, we are all ready to devour you as it is.”

“La! you don’t say so?” replied the young lady, much pleased.

“Colonel Ellice,” interrupted Captain Drawlock, with a serious air, “several of the company will thank you to carve that joint, when you have finished paying your compliments.  Miss Tavistock, the honour of a glass of wine.  We have not had the pleasure of your company on deck to-day.”

“No, Captain Drawlock.  I did intend to come, but my health is in such a delicate state, that by the advice of Dr Plausible I remained below.”

“Miss Tavistock, will you allow me to send you some mutton?”

“If you please, colonel; a very small slice.”

“Mr Forster, what have you in that dish before you?”

“A chicken, Captain Drawlock.”

“Miss Isabel Revel, will you take some chicken?”

“No, I thank you, Captain Drawlock,” replied Isabel.

“Did you say yes or no?” inquired Newton, who had caught her eye.

“I’ll change my mind,” said Isabel, smiling.

Now, I know it for a fact, although I shall not give up my authority, that Isabel Revel never wanted any chicken until she perceived that Newton was to help her.  So, if Love occasionally takes away the appetite, let us do him justice—­he sometimes creates one.

“Miss Tavistock, allow me to send you a little of this turkey,” said Dr Plausible; “it is easy of digestion.”

“If you please, doctor,” replied Miss Tavistock, cramming the last mouthful of mutton into her mouth, and sending away her plate to be changed.

“Will you not take a little ham with it, Miss Tavistock?” said Captain Drawlock.

“If you please, sir.”

“The honour of a glass of wine, Miss Tavistock,” said the colonel.

“With pleasure, sir.”

“Miss Charlotte Revel, you have really eaten nothing,” said Captain Drawlock.

“That proves you have not paid me the least attention,” replied the young lady.  “Had you honoured me with a single glance during dinner, you could not but have observed that I have been dining very heartily.”

“I really am quite shocked, Miss Charlotte, and bow to your reproof.  Will you take a glass of wine with me, in reconciliation?”

“I consider a glass of Madeira a very poor bribe, sir.”

“Well, then, Miss Charlotte, it shall be champagne,” replied Captain Drawlock, in his gallantry.  “Steward, champagne.”  A fortunate hit for the company; as champagne was in general only produced upon what sailors call “clean shirt days,”—­viz., Sundays and Thursdays.