"Oh, there you are," she cried, abandoning herself to utter defeat as she tossed him the bribe he demanded.
Once safely on the floor, Bessie ran lightly to the entrance leading to the adjoining room and peeped out to see who was approaching. Much to her astonishment she discovered no one near, then, turning, read in Moore's laughing eyes how cleverly she had been tricked.
"There is no one coming," she said severely.
"Is there not?" asked the poet, stowing away the prize he had won in his coat-tail pocket. "Shall I help you up on the table again?"
Bessie looked daggers at him, but he smiled blandly back at her in innocent good-nature.
"I am very angry with you," she announced, decisively. "Really, Mr. Moore, your behavior is perfectly intolerable."
"And why are you so provoked? Because I took your ruffle?" queried the poet. "Why angry, since I left the skirt?"
"Mr. Moore!" she cried warningly.
"Well, Mistress?"
"Be careful, sir!"