"Yes, sir!"

"Explain this misfortune of Mr. Babble's."

"Ho, 'ee 'll never know, sir, habout the sherry," replied Buster, rea.s.suringly.

"He won't?" said Moore, still in the dark. "What do you mean, lad?"

"Hi left 'im one full bottle, so hif 'ee should 'appen to fall hon 'is way downstairs. .h.i.t would be hall right. Hi 've got hall 'ee 'ad with 'im hexcept that one bottle wich Hi feels has 'ow hit was a cruel shame to waste."

As the boy spoke he threw open the cupboard and exhibited his plunder neatly arranged in two rows on the middle shelf.

Moore swore gently in his astonishment and sat down.

"Buster," said he, "have you no morals?"

"No, sir, but Hi 'as the sherry."

"Well, there is no use in sending it back, I suppose. It's six more bottles to be added to the bill when I pay it."

"Yessir, this his simply hour method hof obtaining more credit, sir."

"Buster," said Moore solemnly. "You are a financier. We 'll have a gla.s.s together."

Promptly at four a dapper little person, who moved with such lively and mannered steps, even when walking at his slowest gait, that his general demeanor was highly suggestive of a dancing master in business hours, entered the house which was honored by the presence of Thomas Moore and his faithful servant. This individual was a cobbler named Hypocrates Slink, who hammered and sewed leather in a little store perhaps a hundred yards farther down the street than the house presided over by Mrs. Malone. He had red hair and a nose gently tinted with another shade of the same color. His eyes were small, blue, and not entirely guiltless of a squint; in fact, his chief rival in the trade was wont to describe him as a c.o.c.k-eyed impostor. This, being repeated to Mr. Slink, had caused him to make remarks of a decidedly acrimonious nature in reply, and as these had in their turn been faithfully carried to the object that had drawn them forth, a bitter feud was engendered, the result being that the neighborhood was frequently provided with amus.e.m.e.nt by the verbal combats of the two cobblers, for, while physical encounters seemed pending, as yet there had none taken place.

Having knocked for admittance, Mr. Slink was duly announced and ushered in by Buster, whose manner to one better versed in the youth's peculiarities would have seemed suspiciously courteous.

"Good-day to you, Mr. Slink," said Moore, pleasantly. "Is your health salubrious?"

"Quite werry, sir," replied the cobbler, approaching his patron with his usual mincing step.

"And have you the boots, Mr. Slink?"

"I have, sir," replied the cobbler, exhibiting a paper-wrapped bundle, nestling beneath his arm. "Here they are, sir, but the money, sir? You promised cash, sir. That is to say, sir, I intimidated as delicatesome as I could that I must have the coin, sir, before I could let you have them, sir."

"So I have been informed by my man," replied Moore. "Really, my good sir, such suspicions are unworthy of you. Believe me, it is with regret I perceive the taint of cynicism in an otherwise charming character."

"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Slink. "Yes, sir. Them is just my own sentiments, but I have a large family, and one that I may say, proudly and truthfully, sir, is on the steady increase."

"My sympathy to you in your misfortune," said Moore, hastily. "Ah, England owes much of her advancement to her n.o.ble citizens. It is such men as you make possible the Orphan Asylums, for without the young and deserving what would become of such worthy inst.i.tutions?"

"Sir, you take the werry words out o' my mouth. Scarcely a day pa.s.ses but I says much the same thing to Matilda. You see, she being a mother and a woman--"

"The natural implication, believe me, Mr. Slink," interrupted Moore.

"Oh, quite, sir. One usually follows on the other. Matilda is apt to become downcast when she compares population with pocket-book, for as one goes up the other goes down, so I made her a solemn promise after the sixth that business should be placed on a strictly cash basis in the future."

"Ah," observed Moore, interestedly, "and did that encourage the good woman?"

"I think it must have, for our next blessing was twins, boy and girl, sir."

"Cause and effect is a most diverting study," observed Moore. "Now that you have explained the reason for your insisting upon immediate material compensation for your labor, I cease to regard such a stipulation as insulting."

"Yes, sir," replied the gratified cobbler.

"But, Mr. Slink, have you thought of the result that might ensue if too much encouragement be provided for so lofty an ambition as that which stirs your wife's existence? Twins can be endured, but, sir, think of triplets!"

"Well, sir, I holds that there is luck in odd numbers," answered Mr.

Slink, quite unimpressed by the poet's argument and its obvious conclusions, "so, if you 'll let me, I shall be delighted to enleather your pedals, if I may make bold to so term your feet."

"Just as you say, Mr. Slink; but, of course, before I part with my money I naturally desire to be certain that the boots fit me."

"All right," said the cobbler, undoing his parcel. "Sit you down, Mr.

Moore, and I 'll exhibit my wares."

Moore took the stool brought to him by Buster, and the cobbler, kneeling down, proceeded with sundry pulls and pushes to inclose his foot in the new shoe.

"Easy, easy!" said Moore, clutching the bottom of the stool, to keep from being shoved off it. "You are not pushing a cart, even if you are driving a bargain, Mr. Slink."

"There you are," exclaimed the cobbler, sitting on his heels as he wiped the perspiration from his wrinkled brow. "There you are. A beautiful fit, or may I be unworthy of Matilda."

"Your merit, Mr. Slink, has already been proved if your previous statements are authentic," said Moore. "Statistics bear me out, my friend. I am quite convinced you are a splendidly matched pair."

"Well, sir, this other boot is just as good a match for the one you have on."

"Try it, Mr. Slink, try it. There is nothing like doing things thoroughly. I know Matilda and you agree with me there."

Slink obediently started to fit the other shoe, finding some little difficulty in doing so, for Moore contrived to make the operation a very difficult one, and for a purpose, as will be seen later.

"You are an artist, Mr. Slink," said Moore, approvingly. "Look at the boot, Buster. Did you ever see better?"

"Never 'as 'ow Hi remembers. Oh, Mr. Slink his a tiptopper when it comes to shoes heven if Mr. Smirk hallows 'as 'ow 'ee 's a bloomink bungler," replied Buster, winking at his master. "But, hof corse, Mr.

Smirk, being a bachelor, 'ee hain't as careful as 'ee might be. 'Ee says 'ee 'as no wife to beat 'im as hothers 'ee says 'ee knows hof in the same business 'as."

"If that baldheaded leather-spoiler means me, all I have to say is that no decent woman would consider matrimonially no such rum-soaked old ravellings as that same Smirk," replied Mr. Slink, puffing at his work.

"He has no pride in his handiwork. His shoes lack all soul, spirituously speaking."

"Pride," repeated Moore, with a grimace of discomfort. "That shoe will have to be pried before I can wear it. Oh! It is tight, Mr. Slink, cursedly tight, Mr. Slink. Were you yourself quite sober when you made it?"

"Yes, sir, I was. I always am sober, sir."

"Then it is the wind that tints your proboscis that strawberry pink, is it?" said Moore. "Suppose you have a gentle breeze with me. I 've a new lot of sherry just sent me by Admiral Nelson. You must try it, Mr.

Slink. Just a little puff of wind? A squall more or less won't affect the color of your nose."

"I 'll be delighted, sir," replied the cobbler, getting on his feet.

"As I always says to Matilda--