Tom Moore Part 18

"By the powers, here comes Winnie now," he exclaimed.

"True for you, Tom, and headed this way."

"Now you get out of here, Terry, and we will have my rejection over with at once. I 'll be through in a jiffy."

"Don't be too precipitate or she will suspect something," advised Farrell.

"Leave it to me," said Moore. "You stand just outside the door there and you can listen to it all. Oh, it will be fine, Terry."

"Say, 'Will you have me?' Tom," said Terence, going to the door opposite to the one which his sister was now approaching.

"Don't try to teach me," said Moore. "It's myself that's to do this proposing, and I need no instruction. All you have to do is to listen.

Don't go away now."

"Not I," said Terence. "I won't be easy till it's over," and, laughing under his breath, he shut the door.

Truly fortune favored him this day, for coming up the hill was Bessie, not more than a moment or two behind Winnie Farrell, who by this time had entered the school.

"Good-day, to you, Winnie," said Moore, politely. "Sure, it is blooming you are this afternoon. Like a whole bouquet of blossoms, let alone a single flower."

Winnie looked pleased at the compliment and smiled upon its bestower.

"How gallant you are to-day," she said in a flattered tone.

"Oh, I _said_ it this day, but I _think_ it all the week," replied Moore, placing a stool for the lady.

"Where is Terence?" she asked, seating herself. "He promised to wait for me here."

"I expect him back in a little while," replied Moore, casting a furtive glance in the direction of the door behind which he believed his friend to be concealed. "You can wait for him, Winnie. I have n't seen much of you lately."

"You know the road that leads to Farrell's, Tom," said the girl with a laugh. She was a plump little morsel with a soft voice, and a saucy tip-tilted nose; a pleasant, generous-hearted little soul, decidedly good to look upon.

"I have not forgotten the road," said Moore, meaningly.

"Then, why don't you come to see me?"

"For fear that I would n't be as welcome as Captain Arbuckle," said Moore, trying to look knowing.

Winnie looked surprised.

"Captain Arbuckle?" she said, wonderingly. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Winnie."

"No, I don't, Tom."

"You do, too, you artless creature," said Moore, laughing.

"What _are_ you driving at, Tom?" asked Winnie, genuinely puzzled.

"At you, Winnie, dear," replied Moore, and then, conscious that his courage was rapidly leaving him, he proceeded desperately with his performance.

"Winnie Farrell, I love you."

"What?" cried the girl, rising from the stool.

"I love you, Winnie. Say you won't marry me," said Moore, relieved that he had finished. His satisfaction lasted only a moment for Winnie threw her arms around his neck with a little, joyous cry.

"Tom," she whispered, "I 'll be your wife gladly, for I 've loved you for weeks."

"What?" cried Moore. "Oh, Winnie, you are only joking? You don't mean it, Winnie? You don't, do you?"

Bessie gave a little sob. She had quietly opened the door in time to hear Moore's declaration, and, thunderstruck, had stood there, unperceived until now.

Winnie, abashed at Bessie's look of scorn and hatred, did not linger.

The door closed behind her, and Moore, just beginning to realize his predicament, stood facing his angered sweetheart.

"Bessie," he said, chokingly. "Bessie, I can explain."

"I do not wish you to explain," she answered, her voice all a-tremble.

"Hear me, Bessie," he began, desperately, but she turned a deaf ear to his words.

"I 'll never believe you again, Tom Moore," she said, flinging from her bosom the rose he had given her. "I am done with you."

Then, turning, she closed the door in his face, and left him.

Book Two

"_New hope may bloom,_ _And days may come_ _Of milder, calmer beam,_ _But there's nothing half so sweet in life_ _As Love's young dream:_ _No, there's nothing half so sweet in life_ _As Love's young dream._"

_Chapter Eight_

_INTRODUCES MONTGOMERY JULIEN ETHELBERT SPINKS_

In the attic of an old house in Holywell Street, London, a frowsy-headed, freckled-faced youth was peering from the gabled window that fronted on the busy thoroughfare below. This lad was conspicuous for his lack of beauty. He had a round jolly face, a turned-up and rather negatively developed nose, and eyes of a neutral shade that might be described as gray or green with equal correctness. His mouth was capable of stretching to a length almost awe-inspiring when first beheld, but could be forgiven for this extravagance, because the teeth thus exposed were white and regular. His chin was square and slightly protruding, imparting a rather pugnacious expression to a face that in other respects seemed to indicate that its owner was of a decidedly good-humored disposition. He was stockily built, so thick-set, in fact, that a quick glance would incline one to the belief that he was rather plump than otherwise, but a closer examination would have revealed that he owed his size to the possession of an unusual amount of bone and muscle. This young gentleman rejoiced in the sobriquet of Buster, though his real t.i.tle was much more elegant, while lacking entirely in the almost epigrammatic terseness of his nickname. At the present time he was anxiously waiting for the approach of an old-clothesman who was slowly making his way down the street, meanwhile inviting trade at the top of his lungs. Buster and the old-clothesman were acquaintances of long standing, though their relations were by no means of a friendly nature, the eagerness with which the boy awaited the man's coming being caused entirely by a desire to drop a paper bag full of water upon the latter's head from the height of three stories, a proceeding which Buster was sanguine would be productive of reason for unlimited merriment. He had the bag, empty as yet, clutched tightly in one hand, while the other was within easy reach of a cracked pitcher full of water standing on the floor near the window. A disreputable-looking bulldog, impartially divided as to color between brindle and dirty white, was inspecting proceedings in a most interested manner from his seat on a rickety stool in the nearest corner.

Buster sighed with impatience and the dog yawned in sympathy.

"Lord Castlereagh, your rudeness is honly hexceeded by your himperliteness, the both of wich is hunsurpa.s.sed save by your bad manners. You should put your bloomin' paw hup before that 'ole in your phis'omy when you sees fit to hexhibit your inards."