"How terrible!" said Bessie, half frightened.
"Quite," said Moore. "He 'll have a sugary time I 'm thinking, for if heaven don't preserve him, Sweeny will turn him into jelly. I 'm afraid he will be badly jammed one way or another."
"Who can this strange gallant be?" asked Bessie.
"By Gad, what if he were Sir Percival?" exclaimed the poet, struck suddenly by the thought.
"You don't think so, Tom?"
"No, dear," said Moore, soothingly, "no such good luck I 'm afraid."
"Well, I t'ink I must be goin'," observed Mrs. Malone, rising from her chair reluctantly. "Good avenin' to yez both, darlin's. Oh, there will be doin's to-night, there will be doin's."
"Tell the dairyman I sympathize with him in his domestic disappointments," said Moore, "and give my regards to your friend Master Incognito, though he is a naughty boy. And a word to you, Mrs. Malone. Don't trust him too far yourself. I 'd never be alone with him, if I were you, for it is best to be on the safe side always,"
"Stop your tazing me, Tom Moore, or I 'll take you across me knee and give you what you deserve," retorted the landlady, with a broad grimace which was quite in keeping with her portly person.
Moore opened the door with a bow in his most drawing-room manner, and having bestowed upon Bessie a ponderous courtesy, the old woman waddled out, running into Mr. Sheridan, who, being about to enter, was thus rudely thrust back against Mr. Brummell, who, elegantly attired as usual, was directly behind him.