"Then I 'll give it up, as I never was a good hand at conundrums," said Moore, bubbling over with merriment. "Go on with your story about Father O'Houlihan's gay friend."
"Well anniehow, Isaac and Sweeny and some other of the byes is laying for Masther Gay Spark."
"Perhaps they wish to present him with the freedom of the city and a service of silver plate."
"Not much," said Mrs. Malone. "They are going to bate his head off for him, thot's what they are going to do."
"Are n't they good-natured, Bessie?" said Moore. "I hope he will see the humorous side of the affair and treat it all as a joke."
"Well, it will be no laughing matter," said Mrs. Malone, stoutly. "As I said before, they 'll make jelly of Masther Gay Spark."
"How terrible!" said Bessie, half frightened.
"Quite," said Moore. "He 'll have a sugary time I 'm thinking, for if heaven don't preserve him, Sweeny will turn him into jelly. I 'm afraid he will be badly jammed one way or another."
"Who can this strange gallant be?" asked Bessie.
"By Gad, what if he were Sir Percival?" exclaimed the poet, struck suddenly by the thought.
"No, dear," said Moore, soothingly, "no such good luck I 'm afraid."
"Well, I t'ink I must be goin'," observed Mrs. Malone, rising from her chair reluctantly. "Good avenin' to yez both, darlin's. Oh, there will be doin's to-night, there will be doin's."
"Tell the dairyman I sympathize with him in his domestic disappointments," said Moore, "and give my regards to your friend Master Incognito, though he is a naughty boy. And a word to you, Mrs. Malone. Don't trust him too far yourself. I 'd never be alone with him, if I were you, for it is best to be on the safe side always,"
"Stop your tazing me, Tom Moore, or I 'll take you across me knee and give you what you deserve," retorted the landlady, with a broad grimace which was quite in keeping with her portly person.
Moore opened the door with a bow in his most drawing-room manner, and having bestowed upon Bessie a ponderous courtesy, the old woman waddled out, running into Mr. Sheridan, who, being about to enter, was thus rudely thrust back against Mr. Brummell, who, elegantly attired as usual, was directly behind him.
"Zooks!" exclaimed the Beau plaintively. "Sherry, I told you that you should not drink that last glass. You have ruffled my cravat in a most shameful manner."