"How did he learn that?" asked Moore, greatly interested.

"From Jane."

"That girl talks too much. She does n't deserve to be the flame of such a spark," said the poet, utterly disgusted with the heroine of the tale.

"Niver mind thot. So Sweeny has locked up the gal in her room--"

"Alone?"

"Faith, who would be likely to be with her, sorr?"

"Well, you said something about a gay incognito, did n't you?" suggested Moore.

"I niver did in me loife. I 'll have yez to understand, Misther Moore, I 'd scorn to use such profane langwidge. I 'm a dacent Catholic, as Father O'Houlihan will tell yez, if yez ask him."

"I 'll ask him the next time I see him," said Moore. "It is always best to be sure about these things. But go on, Mrs. Malone."

"Where was I?"

"You were locked up in the room with Jane Sweeny."

"I wuz not, sorr."

"I 'm sure it could n't have been with Sir Incognito," said Moore, shocked.

"If I wuz locked up wid Jane Sweeny how could I be here now?" demanded the landlady.

"Perhaps you made a ladder of the bedclothes, and let yourself down from the window," suggested the poet.

"I did not, sorr," replied Mrs. Malone, quite puzzled by the web in which her lodger had entangled her.

"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."

"For what purpose, Mrs. Malone?"

"For what do yez t'ink?"

"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.

"You don't think so, Tom?"

"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 gla.s.s. You have ruffled my cravat in a most shameful manner."

"I beg your parding, gintlemen," said Mrs. Malone, remorsefully, "but divil a bit did I see yez."

"Mistress Bridget, no apologies are necessary," said Mr. Sheridan, graciously. "How well you are looking to-day."

"D'ye t'ink so?" giggled the ancient dame, more than tickled by her great countryman's condescension.

"On me honor," replied Mr. Sheridan. "You agree with me, don't you, George?"

"Entirely," drawled Brummell, "entirely, 'pon my soul. How d' ye do, Tom?"

Moore's face beamed with delight as he saw who his visitors were.

"I 'm fine," he said. "Come in, friends, and make yourself easy."

"Mistress d.y.k.e," murmured Brummell, with a courtly bow.

"Mistress Moore that is to be," corrected Moore, proudly, "whenever I can afford such a luxury."

"What did I tell you, George?" said Sheridan, delightedly, nudging the Beau with his elbow.

"Do be careful, Sherry," replied Brummell, warningly. "Tom, I congratulate you."

"So do I," said Sheridan. "You have a cheerful den, Tommy. Here is a home for you, Brummell."

"Does Mr. Brummell need a home?" asked Moore, waving his guests to the most comfortable of the chairs.

"Faith, the Beau is better at breaking them than making them," remarked the elder man, with a chuckle.