handfuls o' money; but
sure, while there's room for improvement, every apartment must be
attended to, and the vocal apartment is filled by Sir John--fifteen
shillin's a lesson, no less."

"What silvery tones she ought to bring out, ma'am, at that rate!"

"'Faith, you may say that, sir. It's coining, so it is, with them
tip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a daughter; every shake I get
out of her is to the tune of a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear
her by-and-by; the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the
'Bewildhered Maid.' Do you know the 'Bewildhered Maid,' sir?"

"I haven't the honour of her acquaintance, ma'am," said the doctor.

The dancing _was_ soon over, and the mother's threat put into execution.
Miss Riley was led over to the piano by the widow, with the usual
protestations that she was hoarse. It took some time to get the piano
ready, for an extensive clearance was to be made from it of cups and
saucers, and half-empty glasses of negus, before it could be opened;
then, after various thrummings and hummings and hawings, the
"Bewildhered Maid" made her appearance in the wildest possible manner,
and the final shriek was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applause
followed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by James
Reddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying backward and
forward to the music, with a maudlin expression of sentiment on his
face, and a suppressed exclamation of "B-u-tiful!" after every extra
shout from the young lady.

Growling listened with an expression of as much dissatisfaction as if
he had been drinking weak punch.

"I see you don't like that," said the widow to him, under her breath;
"ah, you're too hard, doctor--consider she sung out of good-nature."

"I don't know if it was out of good-nature," said he; "but I am sure it
was out of tune."

[Illustration: The Widow Flanagan's Party]

James Reddy led back Miss Riley to her mamma, who was much delighted
with the open manifestations of "the poet's" admiration.

"She ought to be proud, sir, of your _conjunction_, I'm sure. A poet
like you, sir!--what beautiful rhymes them wor you did on the 'lection."

"A trifle, ma'am--a mere trifle--a little occasional thing."

"Oh! but them two beautiful lines--

"We tread the land that bore us
Our green flag glitters o'er us!"

"_They_ are only a quotation, ma'am," said Reddy.

"Oh, like every man of true genius, sir, you try and unde