Tom Moore Part 66

"Then comes the best of all, gentlemen, the dessert."

"And what may that be, Tommy?"

"Well, it _may_ be custard pudding--"

"Ah!" said Brummell in an approving tone.

"But it _is n't_," continued Moore. "It is something even sweeter and softer."

"Don't arouse my curiosity further," pleaded Sheridan.

"Well, then, we are to have kisses for dessert."

Sheridan and the Beau applauded noisily while Bessie blushed in a most becoming manner.

"How is the dessert to be served, Tommy?"

"I kiss Bessie," said Moore, exultantly. "Then comes your turn, Sherry."

"Ah!" said that gentleman, smacking his lips in antic.i.p.ation.

"Then comes your turn, Sherry. You kiss Brummell."

The wit gave an exclamation of disappointment, while the rest of the party laughed heartily.

"Really, Tom," said the Beau, "this egg is delicious."

"Sure it is," replied his host. "We raised that one on the bottle, didn't we, Bessie?"

Meanwhile he had helped himself to another, and cracking the sh.e.l.l, turned away with an exclamation of disgust.

"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, holding his nose. "Bessie, I knew I ought to have hurried home with that egg if I wanted to eat it. Faith, it is too much a chicken to be an egg, and too much egg to be a chicken. Buster, accept this with my compliments."

Buster obediently carried away the cause of the trouble and stowed it outside on a corner of the window-sill, reserving it for use as ammunition at some future time.

"I never drank such tea, Mistress Bessie," said Sheridan, pa.s.sing his cup to be refilled. "Really you are an enchantress."

"She enchanted me years ago," said Moore.

"I suited him to a tee the first time I saw him," said Bessie, laughing.

"A pun is the lowest form of humor," said Moore, severely.

"And therefore at the bottom of all true wit," said Sheridan, coming to his hostess's defence like the gallant old Irishman he was.

"It seems to me you two are very thick," said Moore, critically. "I 'll have you to understand, Richard Brinsley, that I am not to be treated with contempt."

"I think Irish whisky would be what I should treat you with, Tommy."

"A happy thought," cried the poet. "Buster, the Dew of Heaven."

"Some 'un just knocked, Mr. Moore," said the boy.

"Then open the door, you gossoon."

Buster did so, and Lord Brooking stepped quickly into the room.

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

_TOM MOORE HEARS OF A POLITICAL APPOINTMENT_

"Lord Brooking," cried Bessie in surprise, rising from the table. "I thought you were still on the Continent."

"Not I, Mistress d.y.k.e. I returned yesterday. So, Mr. Moore, you have been getting into trouble, have you?"

"Did you ever hear of an Irishman who was able to keep out of it long?"

asked Sheridan, waving his hand in greeting to the young n.o.bleman.

"Your lords.h.i.+p has come just in time. Buster, call that bulldog away before Lord Brooking bites him. Get another plate, lad. Sherry, move up and make room for his lords.h.i.+p."

"There hain't any more plites," said Buster in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Then get a saucer," commanded Moore, gaily.

"No, no, Tom," said his lords.h.i.+p. "I 've just dined."

"Oh, you know you are welcome," said Moore. "Don't be too polite if you are hungry."

"I could n't eat a mouthful," said Lord Brooking.

"That's d--n lucky!" whispered Moore to Sheridan.

"Tut, tut, Tom," quoth that staid old party. "Profanity is a luxury and should be used not abused."

"That's like an obedient wife," said Moore. "Your lords.h.i.+p, this is an impromptu banquet to celebrate my engagement to Mistress d.y.k.e."

"Is the engagement an impromptu?" asked Sheridan.

"No, we got it by heart," said Moore.

Brummell clapped his pretty hands in delight.

"Egad," said he, "I 've not heard such verbal fireworks this six months."