Tom Moore Part 67

"So you are betrothed, Tom?" said Lord Brooking.

"The darlin' has made me say 'Yes' at last," said Moore in an apparently bashful tone.

"Mistress d.y.k.e," said his lords.h.i.+p, taking her hand and kissing it, "Tom is indeed a lucky man. I wish you both all the happiness you deserve.

Hang me, if I 'm not envious, Tom. I 've half a mind to marry myself."

"It takes a smart man to marry himself," commented Moore, "but it is economical."

Brooking sat down and crossed his legs in an easy att.i.tude.

"I have news for you, Tom," said he. "News that I fancy will please you."

"Have you found me a long-lost uncle, childless, wifeless, and worth a million?"

"Not exactly."

"What, then, your lords.h.i.+p? Surely not a long-lost son?"

"I have endeavored to secure you the appointment of Registrar of the Admiralty Court at Bermuda. The salary of the office is five hundred pounds yearly."

"Bermuda?" echoed the poet, hardly able to believe his ears.

"Where the devil is Bermuda?" asked Sheridan, taking snuff.

"That is where the onions come from, you ancient ignoramus, but its geographical location does not matter tuppence," said Moore. "If you get the place for me, sir, I will accept it gladly, and I thank you more than I can tell for the attempt, whether you succeed or not."

"Pshaw," said Lord Brooking, "wait until I put the appointment in your hands, Tom."

"Ah," said Bessie, softly, "your lords.h.i.+p knows how grateful we both are for your many kindnesses."

"Say no more about it," replied the young n.o.bleman, blus.h.i.+ng like a girl. "If I may truthfully congratulate myself on having made the world brighter and life's path easier for two such deserving friends, I have gained a satisfaction no money could ever purchase."

Moore shook his patron's hand with a grip that conveyed more than any words of thanks could have done.

"Tommy, my boy, don't you need a private secretary?" inquired Sheridan.

"Thank you, I 'll have no such lady-killer in my official family,"

replied Moore.

"I congratulate you both," said Brummell, "but we will miss you when Bermuda claims your society."

"You shall still be in touch with the world," said Sheridan. "I 'll write you all the scandal once a week."

"It will take a pound for postage if you write it all, Sherry," said Moore, dubiously.

"And I," said Brummell, rising, pompously, "will keep you informed of the changes I deem advisable to make in the fas.h.i.+ons."

"That's mighty good of you, Beau."

"Oh, that will be splendid," said Bessie. "I will set all the styles on the island."

"Not much," said Moore, horrified. "To do that, Bessie, you would have to wear fig-leaves."

"Promise me, Tom, that you will let me know if the black ladies are as pretty as they say?" said Sheridan.

"I will investigate that matter myself," responded the poet, winking slyly at the dramatist.

"Indeed you will do nothing of the kind, Tom Moore," said Bessie in an indignant tone.

"Certainly not," said he. "Sherry, you are a wicked old man to even suggest such a thing."

"I was always fond of brunettes," said Sheridan, calmly, "like you, Tom."

"What horrid things men are!"

"Old men are," a.s.sented Moore. "Sherry, you are a shocking old rascal."

"He is no worse than you, Tom," said the girl.

"Not half so bad, on my honor," observed the elder gentleman.

"You are so, Mr. Sheridan," said the girl, changing front immediately.

"See, Sherry, you can't abuse me with impunity," declared Moore with a chuckle.

"I 'll abuse you with profanity if you do not stop flaunting your amatory success in my venerable countenance," tartly retorted the gay old Irishman.

Lord Brooking looked at his watch.

"Jove!" he exclaimed, "I had no idea it was so late. I must be off."

"So soon?" asked Moore, regretfully, as his lords.h.i.+p rose to his feet.

"I 'm due at Lady Fancourt's amateur theatricals in ten minutes."

"So am I," said Brummell, smoothing his ruffles.

"And I also," said Sheridan. "Is your cab waiting, Brookie, me boy?"

"I think so," responded his lords.h.i.+p. "I 'll be glad of your company.

Will you risk close quarters with us, Brummell?"

"Not I, Brooking," said the Beau. "I prefer not to disarrange my costume by crowding Sheridan."

"Aye," said Moore. "An Irishman 's a bad thing for an Englishman to crowd too far. Since you are going to walk, George, I 'll honor myself by seeing you out of the neighborhood. Such swells as you are tempting game, and there is many a dark alley only too handy."

"Good night, Mistress d.y.k.e," said Lord Brooking, bowing low over her hand.

"Good night," she said sweetly, "and thank you again."