Moore emerged from behind the screen with a sigh of relief.
"Oh, Buster, my boy," he said breathlessly, "there is nothing like cold water for starting the circulation. What would I do without my tubbing?"
"She 'll be back hagain, sir," said Buster, sighing at the thought. "Hi wish 'er hold man was halive. 'Ee would n't be so 'ard hon us, would 'ee?"
"Well, I am not so sure about that," answered Moore. "He was very fond of the bottle, was Mr. Malone. Usually he 'd not get up till noon, leaving us to fight and play around the schoolroom till he got over the effects of the night before. Then he 'd wallop the lot of us for waking him up so early."
"She was, Buster! Much more, probably, than she would have been if he had been a better husband."
"Just himagine Bridget Malone a-courtin'. D'ye suppose has 'ow the hold gal remembers it, sir?"
"I would n't be surprised, Buster. Such memories grow dearer as old age approaches. By the Saints, lad, you 've given me an idea!"
"'As I?" said the boy in surprise. "Hi didn't know has I 'ad one."
"You have fixed it so I can stand her off for the rent or my name is not Thomas Moore," answered the poet cheerfully. "We 'll not have to move this day, Buster."
"Ho, that's fine, sir. Me and Lord Castlereagh 'ates moving. Does n't we, pup?"
The bulldog barked exultantly catching the key of hope from his master's voice.
"Hof corse," said Buster, "when worst comes to worst we can keep the place by setting Lord Castlereagh to watch the stairs. No landlady hor bailiff wud hever git by 'im, sir."
"That would be what is known as a dogged resistance of authority," said Moore, chuckling at his bad joke. "We must n't come to that, lad."
Moore returned to his temporarily abandoned repast and speedily ate his fill, Buster and the dog sharing alike in the debris, which was more than enough to afford satisfaction to them both.
"Now, I 'll try to work," said Moore, arming himself with a huge quill, the feathered end of which being well chewed, seemed indicative of having furnished food for reflection to its owner in the immediate past. He sat down at the table, scrupulously cleaned and dusted by Buster after he had removed the dishes, and, drawing a blank sheet of paper towards him, dipped the pen in the ink, preparatory to calling upon his inspiration. But that was as far as he got, for the desired idea failed to materialize.