"Ah, Buster," he said sadly, "when luck comes we will pay all these men. Till then they will have to give us credit, and if they won't give it, we will take it, but for every penny I owe them now, I 'll pay them two when I can afford to settle. I can do without wine, but without boots I 'd not earn the coin to pay any of my debts. I don't like such trickery, heaven knows, but I must get on. I must get on."
"Hif they were n't crazy fools, they 'd be glad to trust us," assented Buster. "We 'll pay 'em when McDermot brings hout our book hof poems."
"That reminds me," said Moore, "it must be almost time for me to hear from that same gentleman."
"Yessir. Say, does Hi get a hautograph copy?"
"You do, Buster," replied Moore, smiling. "No one deserves it more than you, I am sure."
"A hautograph copy," repeated Buster, delightedly. "My, but that will be fine. Hand I wants yer to write your name hin the front of it?"
"Don't you know what an autograph copy is, Buster?" asked Moore, his eyes twinkling.
"That Hi does," said the boy, confidently. "Hit's one with gilt hedges hall around it. Hi knows."
Chapter Twelve
IN WHICH THE POET WARBLES TO MRS. MALONE