The widow had planned one day a walking party to a picturesque ruin, not far from the town, and determined that Murphy should give his arm to Miss Riley; for the party was arranged in couples, with a most deadly design on the liberty of the attorney. At the appointed hour all had arrived but Murphy; the widow thought it a happy chance, so she hurried off the party, leaving Miss Riley to wait and follow under his escort. In about a quarter of an hour he came, having met the widow in the street, who sent him back for Miss Riley. Now Murtough saw the trap which was intended for him, and thought it fair to make what fun he could of the affair, and being already sickened by various disgusting exhibitions of the damsel's affectation, he had the less scruple of "taking her down a peg," as he said himself. When Murtough reached the house and asked for Miss Riley, he was ushered into the little drawing-room; and there was that very full-blown young lady, on a chair before the fire, her left foot resting on the fender, her right crossed over it, and her body thrown back in a reclining attitude, with a sentimental droop of the head over a greasy novel: her figure was _rather_ developed by her posture, indeed more so than Miss Riley quite intended, for her ankles were not unexceptionable, and the position of her feet revealed rather more. A bonnet and green veil lay on the hearth-rug, and her shawl hung over the handle of the fire-shovel. When Murphy entered, he was received with a faint "How d' do?" "Pretty well, I thank you--how are you?" said Murphy, in his rollicking tone. "Oh! Miste' Murphy, you are so odd." "Odd, am I--how am I odd?" "Oh! _so_ odd." "Well, you'd better put on your bonnet and come walk, and we can talk of my oddity after." "Oh, indeed, I _cawn't_ walk." "Can't walk!" exclaimed Murphy. "Why can't you walk? I was sent for you." "'Deed I cawn't." "Ah, now!" said Murphy, giving her a little tender poke of his forefinger on the shoulder. "Don't, Mister Murphy, _pray_ don't." "But why won't you walk?" "I'm too delicate." Murphy uttered a very long "Oh!!!!!" "'Deed I am, Miste' Murphy, though you may disbelieve it." "Well--a nice walk is the best thing in the world for the health. Come along!" "Cawn't indeed; a gentle walk on a terrace, or a shadowy avenue, is all very well--the Rotunda Gardens, for instance." "Not forgetting the military bands that play there," said Murphy, "together with the officers of all the barracks in Dublin, clinking their sabres at their heels along the gravel walks, all for the small charge of a fi'penny bit." Miss Riley gave a reproachful look and shrug at the vulgar mention of a "fi'penny bit," which Murphy purposely said to shock her "Brummagem gentility."