"Niver mind thot," replied the landlady. "It's many the fright you 've given me, you little tinker. Is Mr. Moore back from the country?"
"See 'ere, his n't the rent pide?" demanded Buster.
"Av course it's paid," replied Mrs. Malone, scornfully. "D' ye t'ink I have no t'oughts at all but about me rint?"
"Well," confessed Buster, "once hupon a time, hit sorter looked has 'ow you wuz bestowing considerable medication hupon that topic. Hif hit did n't, bli' me, that's hall, just bli' me."
"Is Mr. Moore back from the country?" repeated Mrs. Malone.
"Yes, your Majesty," replied the boy, with a low obeisance. "'Ee his. 'Ee returned this werry noon from the 'onts hof nachoor."
"It is just a week since he wint away," observed Mrs. Malone, reflectively.
"'Ow does yer keep count?" asked Buster, surprised at the accuracy of her remark.
"Faith, thot 's an easy mather," she answered, sagely. "Has n't Misthress Dyke called to see him sivin times?"
"She 'as, your 'Ighness, she 'as."