"She's very accomplished, sir," continued the mother. "Mister Jew-val (Duval) taitches her dancin', and Musha Dunny-ai (Mons. Du Noyer)[29] French. Misther Low-jeer (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academy on the pianya; and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave a sthring in it."

[29] My own worthy and excellent master, to whom I gladly pay this tribute of kindly remembrance.

Handy Andy, Volume One — Part 186

"She must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am," said the doctor.

Handy Andy, Volume One — Part 186

"'Faith, you may well say _threasure_, it costs handfuls o' money; but sure, while there's room for improvement, every apartment must be attended to, and the vocal apartment is filled by Sir John--fifteen shillin's a lesson, no less."

Handy Andy, Volume One — Part 186

"What silvery tones she ought to bring out, ma'am, at that rate!"

"'Faith, you may say that, sir. It's coining, so it is, with them tip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a daughter; every shake I get out of her is to the tune of a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear her by-and-by; the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the 'Bewildhered Maid.' Do you know the 'Bewildhered Maid,' sir?"

"I haven't the honour of her acquaintance, ma'am," said the doctor.

The dancing _was_ soon over, and the mother's threat put into execution. Miss Riley was led over to the piano by the widow, with the usual protestations that she was hoarse. It took some time to get the piano ready, for an extensive clearance was to be made from it of cups and saucers, and half-empty glasses of negus, before it could be opened; then, after various thrummings and hummings and hawings, the "Bewildhered Maid" made her appearance in the wildest possible manner, and the final shriek was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applause followed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by James Reddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying backward and forward to the music, with a maudlin expression of sentiment on his face, and a suppressed exclamation of "B-u-tiful!" after every extra shout from the young lady.

Growling listened with an expression of as much dissatisfaction as if he had been drinking weak punch.

"I see you don't like that," said the widow to him, under her breath; "ah, you're too hard, doctor--consider she sung out of good-nature."