"Perhaps you made a ladder of the bedclothes, and let yourself down from the window," suggested the poet.
"I did not, sorr," replied Mrs. Malone, quite puzzled by the web in which her lodger had entangled her.
"Then I 'll give it up, as I never was a good hand at conundrums," said Moore, bubbling over with merriment. "Go on with your story about Father O'Houlihan's gay friend."
"Well anniehow, Isaac and Sweeny and some other of the byes is laying for Masther Gay Spark."
"For what purpose, Mrs. Malone?"
"For what do yez t'ink?"
"Perhaps they wish to present him with the freedom of the city and a service of silver plate."
"Not much," said Mrs. Malone. "They are going to bate his head off for him, thot's what they are going to do."
"Are n't they good-natured, Bessie?" said Moore. "I hope he will see the humorous side of the affair and treat it all as a joke."
"Well, it will be no laughing matter," said Mrs. Malone, stoutly. "As I said before, they 'll make jelly of Masther Gay Spark."