As Moore extemporized he laid his hand insinuatingly upon the landlady's muscular arm, but she threw it off roughly as he finished.

"You can't plaster me, Tom Moore," she declared, loudly.

Buster and Lord Castlereagh retired to a safe distance and watched proceedings with eager eyes.

"Plaster you?" repeated Moore, meditatively, then suddenly laying hands upon her, he twirled the old lady gently around. "Why should I plaster you when nature has covered your laths so nicely?"

"Don't touch me, you young divil," Mrs. Malone e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "How dare you take such liberties?"

"Mine is only a friendly interest," protested Moore.

"I wants no impudence."

"Who said you were wanting in impudence?" demanded Moore. "Tell me the wretch's name, and I 'll attend to his business."

"Nivir mind," replied the landlady, picking up the mate to the boot she had hurled at Buster. "It's high time you had new boots. I 'll have no tramps or ragbags lodging here."

"Mrs. Malone," said Moore, cheerfully, "I quite agree with you. I am pleased to say I shall have a new pair to-day."

"You will, will you?" retorted the old woman. "We hear ducks."

"I don't hear either ducks or geese. Do you, Buster?"

"Hi 'ears Mrs. Malone, sir," replied the lad, stepping behind the bulldog for safety's sake.

"The mistake is natural," answered Moore. "You were saying--?"

"There is not a shoemaker in London who would trust you, Tom Moore, nor any other tradesman," said Mrs. Malone, on whom the foregoing piece of impudence was quite thrown away.

"Nevertheless, I 'll bet you the back rent--the all the way back rent, Mrs. Malone--I have a grand new pair to-day," declared Moore, defiantly.

"Am I right, Buster?"

"Yessir, that we will," a.s.serted that staunch ally.

"Niver mind thot," replied the landlady, extending her palm. "Misther Moore, I 'll thank you for the rint."

Moore took her hand and pressed it warmly.

"No thanks are necessary," he said briskly, "since I have n't it."

The old woman s.n.a.t.c.hed her fingers away with a vigor that nearly upset her lodger.

"I 'll have thot rint," she exclaimed.

"I sincerely hope so, Mrs. Malone, though how you 'll get it I can't see."

"I'll make you see."

"That is very accommodating, I am sure."

"You must raise it, Misther Moore, or I 'll have to have me attic."

Moore looked at her admiringly.

"Ah, Mrs. Malone, surely such a face never went with any but a kind heart," he said gently.

"Thot 'll do you, young sir," replied the landlady, quite unimpressed.

"Ah!" continued the poet, with a sigh. "You are not true Irish, Mrs.

Malone."

"You know betther, Tom Moore. Was n't it my old man, G.o.d rest his good soul in peace, that taught you your A-B-C's in Ireland? Yes it was, and many 's the time he said to me, 'Thot bye would blarny the horns off a cow's forehead if he cud spake her language.'"

"Oh! those were the good old days!" began the poet, hoping to touch a sentimental spot in the old lady's memory.

"Yis, I know all thot," she interrupted. "You almost worried the poor man to death."

"Well," said Moore, half seriously, "you are getting even with me now, are n't you?"

"Niver mind thot. If you don't pay me, out you walk this day, me bucko."

"Won't you let me run if I prefer it?"

"No impudence! When will you pay me?"

Moore turned to Buster, interrogatively.

"When, my lad, will it be most convenient for us to pay Mrs. Malone?" he asked, gravely.

Buster scratched his head and pondered, but no answer was forthcoming, so Moore decided to depend upon his own resources for a satisfactory reply.

"After I am dressed," said he. "Come back in half an hour when I am dressed and I 'll pay you."

"Very well, then," replied Mrs. Malone, "I 'll come up again in half an hour by the clock. And no tricks. I 'm watching the hall, so you can't get away. Do you hear? _I'm watching_ the hall."

Moore nodded his head approvingly.

"Quite right, Mrs. Malone," said he. "It's nice to know there is no danger of the hall being stolen. Sure, what would we do without it?"

"Bah!" exclaimed the landlady, and with her head held scornfully high, she marched out, slamming the door by way of rebuke to the levity of her lodger.

"My heye!" exclaimed Buster, breathing more freely. "She 's more wicious than usual to-day, Mr. Moore."

"I know, lad, but we can't blame her," replied the poet. "She is a good old soul, and, as she says, it was her husband who first whacked knowledge into me."

"Hi suppose 'ee were a fine scholard."