"Married _'ell_!" exclaimed the lad, his nose turning up in disdain at the idea.
"'T would be much the same thing, I 'm thinking," chuckled Moore. "Well, that is one peril escaped. Go on with your confession."
"You know that pome you sent me with to the _Times_, sir?" began Buster, still ill at ease.
"Yessir. Hi did n't take it to the _Times_."
"Hit was this way, sir, just 'as Hi wuz a coming by Carlton 'Ouse, who should Hi see stepping hout 'er carriage but Mrs. Fitz'erbert 'erself, looking that sweet and beautiful has would make your mouth water."
"So there is a woman in it, after all?" observed Moore. "'T was ever thus, Buster."
"Yessir, so wot does Hi do but rip horf the wrapper hand run hup to 'er with the poem, hand sticks hit into 'er 'and. 'That's for you,' ses Hi, hand tips me 'at hand is horf through the crowd like a hantelope."
"Nicely done, Buster," said Moore. "It may come in handy for her ladyship. She can make curlpapers of it. Well, you are forgiven, my boy."
"Thank you, sir," said Buster, greatly relieved.
"Very good, Buster. Perhaps she 'll come to call and bring the Prince of Wales with her."
"Well, sir," replied Buster, "hit's my hopinion has 'ow neither hov 'em is one bit too good for hus."
"Does it, sir?" cried Buster, apparently delighted to hear it.
A knock at the door disturbed both servant and master, as well as arousing suspicions of the worst nature in the bosom of Lord Castlereagh, who growled ominously.
"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Moore, rising hurriedly from the table, which was saved from an upset by the quick hand of Buster. "Is it the rent again?"
Buster tiptoed to the door as the knock was repeated, and whispered, after listening:
"It's Mr. Dyke," declared the person desirous of entering.
"With another treasonable poem, I suppose," he muttered. "Worse luck."
"Wot does you listen to 'em for?" asked Buster, disgustedly, leaving the door as Moore crossed to open it.
"Ah, that is the question," said the poet, softly.
"Hi knows," remarked Buster under his breath. "'Cos 'ee 's 'er father, that's why."
"Come in, Mr. Dyke," said Moore, opening the door. "How are you to-day, sir?"
"Oh, very well, Thomas," replied the old gentleman, entering with a self-satisfied air. "How do you, my boy?"