[Ill.u.s.tration: "Nor is it usual for a lady to climb up on a desk," said Moore.]

"You think you know a lot about women, don't you?"

"I am always willing to learn more," responded the victorious poet, blithely.

"Oh, dear," sighed the girl, "I don't dare jump with these high-heeled slippers on."

"I observe that your tastes are elevated, even in shoes. Give me the ruffle and I 'll help you down."

"No, sir, you shall not have it."

"Hurry, I think I hear some one coming," exclaimed Moore in an alarmed tone.

"Do help me down."

"The ruffle first."

"Oh, there you are," she cried, abandoning herself to utter defeat as she tossed him the bribe he demanded.

Once safely on the floor, Bessie ran lightly to the entrance leading to the adjoining room and peeped out to see who was approaching. Much to her astonishment she discovered no one near, then, turning, read in Moore's laughing eyes how cleverly she had been tricked.

"There is no one coming," she said severely.

"Is there not?" asked the poet, stowing away the prize he had won in his coat-tail pocket. "Shall I help you up on the table again?"

Bessie looked daggers at him, but he smiled blandly back at her in innocent good-nature.

"I am very angry with you," she announced, decisively. "Really, Mr.

Moore, your behavior is perfectly intolerable."

"And why are you so provoked? Because I took your ruffle?" queried the poet. "Why angry, since I left the skirt?"

"Mr. Moore!" she cried warningly.

"Well, Mistress?"

"Be careful, sir!"

"I do not have to be," he answered, "but you are very different. Now you dare not be long cross."

"Oh, don't I, indeed? And if I dare not, what is the reason, sir," she demanded in a tone as sarcastic as she could make it, though this, it must be admitted, was not saying much.

"Because," he said, slowly and coolly, "if you do let your temper get the better of you the skirt is liable to follow the ruffle into my possession."

"Insolent," exclaimed the girl, sitting down and carefully turning her back towards her tormentor.

That she was very angry with Moore cannot be doubted. Probably it was because she was so exasperated at his behavior and so desirous of being plagued no further by him that she remained in this secluded nook instead of returning to the adjacent rooms, the greater number of which were thronged with guests. Certainly her staying where she was could not be regarded as anything but indicative of a sincere desire to be rid of his company. Unfortunately this very evident fact was not plain to the poet, for he proceeded quite as though he interpreted her tarrying as proof of his own success in providing her with pleasant diversion, a grievous error, as any one conversant with the real state of affairs would have admitted.

"Lady Donegal is a delightful hostess, is n't she, Mistress d.y.k.e?"

"At last you have suggested a subject on which we can agree," replied Bessie, stiffly.

"Oh, I can suggest another," said Moore, trying to catch her eye, an undertaking Bessie rendered a failure by resolutely turning her head away.

"What is that, Mr. Moore?"

"You know I think you are very pretty, Bessie."

"As though I care what you think."

"And I know _you_ think you are very pretty, so we agree again."

"You think I am conceited."

"I know you have good reason to think well of yourself," answered Moore, sweetly.

"Indeed, sir?"

"Indeed, ma'am, for are you not favored with the undying devotion of one Thomas Moore?"

"Oh," said Bessie, disappointed.

Moore approached her chair and, circling round it, tried to make her look him in the face, but she foiled all his attempts by twisting from side to side like a sulky schoolgirl.

"You 'll choke yourself, Bessie," he said, apprehensively. "You 'll have a neck like a corkscrew before long."

"There would be no danger if you would cease intruding yourself upon my meditation," snapped the girl, crossly.

"'She who meditates is lost,'" quoted the poet. "Ah, Bessie darlin', look around at me. Won't you, Bessie? Do, there's a dear."

"I am not to be fooled by your blarneying tongue, Mr. Moore. I, too, am Irish."

"You don't behave like it," said he.

"You do not regulate my behavior, sir."

"I wish I did," remarked Moore. "I could improve it a good deal without much effort."

"You need not trouble."

"Oh, no trouble at all, I a.s.sure you."

"Your a.s.surance is the best part of you, Mr. Moore."

"I could n't say what part of you is the best, dearest," he answered in a soothing tone, that only made the girl more angry. "Collectively you outcla.s.s any colleen in the Kingdom. Now will you look around at me?"

"No."