"Am I interrupting you, Mistress Dyke?"
"Does it look as though you were, Mr. Moore?" she asked, tartly.
"Not exactly," he admitted, not at all encouraged by her manner; "but appearances are deceiving, you know."
"I usually accept them as conclusive," said she, folding the sheet of paper which she had just finished.
"I know you do," said Moore, plaintively. "It is a bad habit to get into."
"No doubt you speak as an authority on the subject, Mr. Moore?"
"On bad habits? It is a bad habit I have of speaking, you mean, Mistress Dyke?"
Bessie nodded and turned toward him, resting one chubby elbow upon the desk.
"How London has changed you," sighed Moore, regretfully, shaking his head as he spoke.
"And you?" said the girl in a critical tone. "Surely Mr. Thomas Moore, the friend of the Prince, is very different from an unknown Irish rhymer?"