_ and when he
has read it, he will favor you with his judgment upon it; and when you
have got that, you will have what all the world knows is not worth a
farthing. He! he! he!

'And like the birds, gay Nature's happy commoners,
Rifle the sweets'--mum--mum--mum."

Her high spirits made Triplet sadder. To think that one word from this
laughing lady would secure his work a hearing, and that he dared not ask
her. She was up in the world, he was down. She was great, he was nobody.
He felt a sort of chill at this woman--all brains and no heart. He took
his picture and his plays under his arms and crept sorrowfully away.

The actress's eye fell on him as he went off like a fifth act. His Don
Quixote face struck her. She had seen it before.

"Sir," said she.

"Madam," said Triplet, at the door.

"We have met before. There, don't speak, I'll tell you who you are.
Yours is a face that has been good to me, and I never forget them."

"Me, madam!" said Triplet, taken aback. "I trust I know what is due to
you better than to be good to you, madam," said he, in his confused way.

"To be sure!" cried she, "it is Mr. Triplet, good Mr. Triplet!" And this
vivacious dame, putting her book down, seized both Triplet's hands and
shook them.

He shook hers warmly in return out of excess of timidity, and dropped
tragedies, and kicked at them convulsively when they were down, for fear
they should be in her way, and his mouth opened, and his eyes glared.

"Mr. Triplet," said the lady, "do you remember an Irish orange-girl you
used to give sixpence to at Goodman's Fields, and pat her on the head
and give her good advice, like a good old soul as you were? She took the
sixpence."

"Madam," said Trip, recovering a grain of pomp, "singular as it may
appear, I remember the young person; she was very engaging. I trust
no harm hath befallen her, for methought I discovered, in spite of her
brogue, a beautiful nature in her."

"Go along wid yer blarney," answered a rich brogue; "an' is it the
comanther ye'd be putting on poor little Peggy?"

"Oh! oh gracious!" gasped Triplet.

"Yes," was the reply; but into that "yes" she threw a whole sentence of
meaning. "Fine cha-ney oranges!" chanted she, to put the matter beyond
dispute.

"Am I really so honored as to have patted you on that queen-like head!"
and he glared at it.

"On the same head which now I wear," replied she, pompously. "I kept
it for the convaynience hintirely, only