"I sincerely hope so, Mrs. Malone, though how you 'll get it I can't see."
"I'll make you see."
"That is very accommodating, I am sure."
"You must raise it, Misther Moore, or I 'll have to have me attic."
Moore looked at her admiringly.
"Ah, Mrs. Malone, surely such a face never went with any but a kind heart," he said gently.
"Thot 'll do you, young sir," replied the landlady, quite unimpressed.
"Ah!" continued the poet, with a sigh. "You are not true Irish, Mrs. Malone."
"You know betther, Tom Moore. Was n't it my old man, God rest his good soul in peace, that taught you your A-B-C's in Ireland? Yes it was, and many 's the time he said to me, 'Thot bye would blarny the horns off a cow's forehead if he cud spake her language.'"
"Oh! those were the good old days!" began the poet, hoping to touch a sentimental spot in the old lady's memory.