"Come in," said Bessie, quite at home as lady of the house.
"What is that?" said Moore, looking at her.
"Come in," she repeated, blushing as she realized her presumption.
"So you have established yourself already?" said the poet, his eyes twinkling, as he opened the door.
It was Mrs. Malone, resplendent in the best her wardrobe could afford.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE POET HAS CALLERS AND GIVES A DINNER-PARTY
"Good avening, Misther Moore. Oh, it's yourself, Mistress Dyke? The top of the afternoon, darling. I just dropped in for a moment to tell yez the news."
"Ah," said Moore, hopefully, "the rent has been lowered, I suppose?"
"You will have your joke, Misther Moore," chuckled the landlady, sitting down in the chair Moore placed for her.