Chapter Thirteen
TOM MOORE HAS A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT AND AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
Mrs. Malone opened the door suddenly, accompanying this action with a vigorous gesture intended to represent an apology for the liberty she took in omitting the knock. By this it can be easily seen that under Buster's tuition the manners of the landlady were improving.
"A gentleman to see you, Misther Moore."
"Show the gentleman in, Mrs. Malone," said the poet, adding in an undertone to Buster, "This must be a reception we are giving. We have joined society without knowing it, lad."
"This way, sorr," announced Mrs. Malone, with an elephantine duck, this being the best imitation nature permitted her to give of a courtesy.
Immediately a little, square-shaped man with an expressionless face from which protruded two beady eyes in much the same manner that raisins brighten and decorate the exterior surface of a plum-pudding, entered, striding as pompously as though his height were considerably over six feet instead of but a trifle under five. His face was clean shaven and consistently grave and solemn down to the lower lip, where his chin made a sudden and undignified attempt to obtain complete concealment in the folds of his neckcloth. However, all in all, he was a neat little man, though far from a beauty.
"Er--er--ahem," he began with a little cough, meanwhile looking back and forth from Moore to Buster as Mrs. Malone waddled out of the attic, "which is Mr. Thomas Moore?"
"I am, sir," replied the poet, taking no notice of the new-comer's intentional rudeness. "What do you wish with me?"
"I--er--er--ahem--come from Mr. McDermot, the publisher. My name is Gannon."