of yoursilf, cushla!" replied Rooney,
stuffing his child's mouth with sweet potato.

"Yes, but it's what a _fright_ you are, I mane," said Mrs Machowl.

"An' it's what a purty cratur _you_ are that _I_ mane," replied Rooney,
repeating the dose to Teddy, who regarded his father with looks of deep
affection.

"Ah! Go 'long wid you. Sure it's your nose is spoilt entirely," said
Mrs Machowl.

"An' it's your own that is swaiter than iver, which more than makes up
the difference," retorted her lord.--"Howld it open as wide as ye can
this time, Ted, me boy; there, that's your sort--but don't choke, ye
spalpeen."

There seemed indeed some occasion for the latter admonition, for Teddy,
unused to such vigorous treatment, was beginning to look purple in the
face and apoplectic about the eyes. In short, there is every
probability that an attack of croup, or something dreadful, would have
ensued if the child's mother had not risen hastily and snatched it away
from the would-be infanticide.

"Now then, Ram-stam and Chok-foo," said Edgar Berrington, putting down
his spoon, "clear away the rat's-tail soup, and bring on the roast
puppy."

Grinning from ear to ear, and with almost closed eyes, the Chinese
servitors obeyed.

While they cleared the table and laid the second course, the
conversation became general. Previously it had been particular,
referring chiefly to the soup and the free circulation of the salt.

"So, then," observed Joe Baldwin, leaning back in his chair, "we must
make up our minds to be content with what we have got. Well, it an't so
bad after all! Let me see. How much did you say the total is, Mister
Eddy?"

"Close upon eight thousand five hundred pounds."

"A tidy little sum," observed Rooney, with an air of satisfaction.

"Eight thousand--eh?" repeated Joe; "hum, well, we'll cut off the five
hundred for expenses and passage home, and that leaves eight thousand
clear, which, according to agreement, gives each of us two thousand
pounds."

Maxwell, who still looked pale and thin from the effects of his late
accident, nodded his head slowly, and growled, "Two thousand--jus' so."

"An' that, Molly, my dear," said Rooney, "if properly invisted, gives
you an' me a clair income--only think, an _income_, Molly--of wan
hundred a year! It's true, cushla! That ye won't be able to rowl in
yer carridge an' walk in silks an' satins on that income, but it'll pay
the rint an' taxes, owld girl, an' help T