"I mean, sir, that you must excuse any little awkwardness about her—that all arises out of timidity—she was lost with bashfulness till I roused her out of it—but now I think she is beginning to have a little self-possession."
The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of snuff; he enjoyed the phase "beginning to have a little self-possession" being applied to the most brazen baggage he ever saw.
"She's very accomplished, sir," continued the mother. "Mister Jew-val (Duval) taitches her dancin', and Musha Dunny-ai (Mons. Du Noyer)[29] ] French. Misther Low-jeer (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academy on the pianya; and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave a sthring in it."
"She must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am," said the doctor.
"'Faith, you may well say threasure, it costs handfuls o' money; but sure, while there's room for improvement, every apartment must be attended to, and the vocal apartment is filled by Sir John—fifteen shillin's a lesson, no less."
"What silvery tones she ought to bring out, ma'am, at that rate!"
"'Faith, you may say that, sir. It's coining, so it is, with them tip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a daughter; every shake I get out of her is to the tune of a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear her by-and-by; the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the 'Bewildhered Maid.' Do you know the 'Bewildhered Maid,' sir?"
"I haven't the honour of her acquaintance, ma'am," said the doctor.
The dancing was soon over, and the mother's threat put into execution. Miss Riley was led over to the piano by the widow, with the usual protestations that she was hoarse. It took some time to get the piano ready, for an extensive clearance was to be made from it of cups and saucers, and half-empty glasses of negus, before it could be opened; then, after various thrummings and hummings and hawings, the "Bewildhered Maid" made her appearance in the wildest possible manner, and the final shriek was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applause followed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by James Reddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying backward and forward to the music, with a maudlin expression of sentiment on his face, and a suppressed exclamation of "B-u-tiful!" after every extra shout from the young lady.
Growling listened with an expression of as much dissatisfaction as if he had been drinking weak punch.