"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," asserted 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 snatched her fingers away with a vigor that nearly upset her lodger.
"I 'll have thot rint," she exclaimed.