Tom Moore Part 52

"A kiss in time saves nine," said Mr. Sheridan, thickly, having approached unnoticed. "I can't prove it, but it sounds curst clever, at least after the second bottle."

"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Fitz," said Brummell, languidly, "his Highness is searching for you, or I misread his behavior."

"If that is the case," replied Mrs. FitzHerbert, smiling into existence the prettiest dimple in the world, "there is only one thing for me to do."

"To hide, Mrs. FitzHerbert," suggested Moore, who understood all women save one; at least it was to this effect that he flattered himself.

"Really, Mr. Moore, you should have been born a woman."

"Not so," said the poet, "for then, like other women, I should be blind to the good fortune of his Highness in enjoying your ladys.h.i.+p's favor."

"But," said Brummell, pompously, "if you had been a woman, Tom, _I_ might have loved you."

"Egad, George, for the first time in my life I regret my s.e.x."

"I 've regretted m' s.e.x all m' life," observed Sheridan, swaying a trifle.

"And tried to drown all recollection in a crimson tide, eh, Sherry?"

"Don't you be so f'miliar, Tommy. I 'm not half drunk."

"Which half is sober, sir?"

"I am still in doubt 's to that, sir. I think it's first one half and then the other."

"You seem quite content, Mr. Sheridan."

"That, Mrs. FitzHerbert, is because I have made myself familiar with Sir Percival's wine, and familiarity breeds content."

Just then Mrs. FitzHerbert caught a distant view of the Regent, and, seeing Sheridan was bent on continuing to enjoy the society of his young fellow-countryman, she took the arm of the Beau and hied herself in the opposite direction, thus prolonging the quest of her royal lover.

Once by themselves, Sheridan seized Moore's arm.

"Tommy," said he, "I 'm a drunken old reprobate."

"They say confession is good for the soul, Sherry," replied Moore, politely.

"But I 'm not such a rascal as s'm' others I know of."

"I hope you mean nothing personal?"

"Shut up, Tommy."

"Yessir," replied the gentleman thus admonished.

"Goo' boy, Tommy. Now listen. Having had a drink or two or pos'bly three to be 'tirely frank, Tommy, I 'cided to get a little air."

"I thought you had a little heir, Sherry."

"Y'r a fool, Tommy."

"I can't conscientiously deny it."

"Oh, H--l!" remarked the elder Irishman, "it's too important to be so curst silly about."

"I beg your pardon," said Moore, contritely. "Proceed."

"Where was I?"

"You were looking for air."

"So I was. Well, so in I go to a room ver' little frequented. And there I raise a window and have a shock, fo' outside I see quite plainly the ugly mug of a bailiff. A bailiff I 'm quite attached to f'r ole times' sake. 'Shoo' old acquaintance be f'rgot,' and so forth.

Understan', Tommy?"

"Perfectly."

"So of course I think he is after me. Understan'?"

"The presumption is quite natural."

"And bob back my head f'r fear he mi' see me. Then down comes window on m' crown, tips my wig over m' ear, and lays me out cold on the floor behind the por'chers. Understan'?"

"Very clearly, Sherry."

"Then when I become sens'ble, I hear voices outside window recess in the room, Sir Percival and Farrell having confidential chat. Tha.s.s what I want tell you."

"Oh," said Moore, in sudden interest, "what were they talking about?"

"Curst 'f I know now," said the dramatist, blankly, all recollection of the important information he had to convey suddenly obliterated.

Moore immediately waxed anxious.

"Think, Sherry, think!"

"I 'm too drunk to do anything but--"

"But what?"

"--but drink some more drinksh."

"Sit down here now and take things easily," urged Moore, resolved to learn what had weighed so heavily upon the old gentleman's mind.

"I 'm ver' thirsty," observed Sheridan, thoughtfully. "Go' lump on m'

head, Tommy. Ver' dis'oblegin' window, most inconsid'rate. Almost scalped ven'rable author of 'Schoo' f'r Scan'al.'"

"Now there are only two subjects on which Sir Percival could converse that would interest me in the least, Sherry."

"Two. Tha.s.s ver' few f'r so clever a man as you, Tommy. I fear you lack ver'--ver'--vers'tility, m' boy."