"Supposing they summons you now for the porter!" said Mrs. M'Evoy, facetiously, casting her eye through the open window into the bare sunshiny street. "They'll have summonses enough at Carrow Bay to keep them out of mischief," returned Dr. Hickey. "It's a pity now, Major, you didn't patronise the Sports. They might have put you on judging the cakes with Mrs. M'Evoy." "Why then, the one they put on with me was the man they had judging the vegetables," said Mrs. M'Evoy, after a comfortable pull at the contraband porter. "'That's a fine weighty cake,' says me lad, weighing a sponge-cake on his hand. 'We'll give that one the prize.'" "I wish you brought it here with you," said her daughter, "as weighty as it was." "They put _me_ judging the row-boats," said Dr. Hickey, "but after the third race I had to give up, and put five stitches in one of the men that was in the mark-boat." I said that the mark-boat ought to have been a fairly safe place. "Safe!" said Dr. Hickey. "It was the hottest corner in the course. I thought they were sunk twice, but they might have been all right if they hadn't out-oars and joined in the race on the second round. They got in first, as it happened, and it was in the course of the protest that I had to put in the stitches. It was a good day's sport, as far as it went." "Ah, there's no life in a Regatta without a band," said Miss M'Evoy languidly, with her elbows on the table and her cup in her hand. "Now Ringsend Regatta's sweet!" "I'm afraid Miss M'Evoy didn't enjoy herself to-day," said Dr. Hickey. "Of course she's used to so much attention in Dublin----" "It's kind of you to say that," said Miss M'Evoy; "I'm sure you're quite an authority on Dublin young ladies." "Is it me?" said Dr. Hickey; "I'd be afraid to say Boo to a goose. But I've a brother that could tell you all about them. He's not as shy as I am." "He must be a great help and comfort to you," returned Miss M'Evoy. "He's very romantic," said Dr. Hickey, "and poetical. He was greatly struck with two young ladies he met at the Ringsend Regatta last month. He mistook their address, someway, and when he couldn't find them, what did he do but put a poem in the papers--the Agony Column, y'know----" "We'd like to hear that," said Mrs. M'Evoy, putting her knife into the salt with unhurried dexterity. "I forget it all, only the last verse," said Dr. Hickey, "it went this way: 'You are indeed a charming creature, Perfect alike in form and feature, I love you and none other. Oh, Letitia--Here's your Mother!'" As Dr. Hickey, his eyes modestly on his plate, concluded the ode, I certainly intercepted a peculiar glance between the ladies. "I call that very impident," said Mrs. M'Evoy, winking at me.