“I hear them’s very ondacent people out there and wears next to no clothes! And they don’t ate no mate in them countries, I am told, but _that_ will suit you finely! You won’t have no butcher’s bill, but will be living on bread and rice. Faix,” with a wheezy laugh, “you are not like my cat, that died of an Ash-Wednesday, because he could not face the Lent! Well, miss, I wish yourself and the gentleman every luck, and that ye may live long, and die happy.” “Thank you, Mrs. Maccabe. I think we shall suit one another,” returned Belle, complacently. “I’m glad it wasn’t Miss Betty he sent for; we could not spare _her_ just yet, though no doubt she will be going from us some of these days, too, and it will be a lucky man that takes her. Get out of that, Joey,” to Foxy Joe; “what are ye waitin’ for? why don’t ye take them ribs up to the Glebe when ye know they dine at two o’clock.” “I was just waiting on Miss Redmond to give her joy! You will not forget poor Joey, miss--will ye?” And he eyed her with an expression of latent cunning. Belle glanced at him scornfully, and made no reply. “You will remember the hand _I_ had in it, won’t ye, miss?” he repeated in a louder key. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” returned Belle, haughtily, now preparing to leave the shop, which was filling fast with respectable customers. Foxy Joe, who, I am sorry to say, had already been at Nolan’s, partaking of an early glass, and had imbibed what is generally known as the “cross drop,” was not to be thus set aside. “Sure, I am talking of all the love letters I carried for you, miss,” he answered in an angry scream, “when _he_ was at home. Begorra, ye were a terrible young lady with the pen! as many as four to his wan, and I was always to wait for an answer; bedad, _he_ was not in the same hurry! And ye never give me a copper, not a hate but an old neck-tie, and promises--Faix!--ye must make it up to me _now_.” Here a violent clout from Mrs. Maccabe’s ox tail reduced him to a whimpering silence, and then he roared out: “And can’t ye let me alone, and what harm am I doing ye--Bridgey Maccabe?” “How dar _ye_ spake to your betters like that, ye dirty little tell-tale whelp?” she demanded furiously. “I’ll have to get shut of ye, I’m thinking--body--sleeves--_and_ trimmings.” “Never mind him,” interrupted Belle, whose voice shook with passion. “Take no notice on _my_ account, Mrs. Maccabe. He’s only a fool; no one pays any attention to his lies.” “Lies!” screamed Joey, “lies am I telling? I’m telling lies, am I? Well, I’ll tell a good one when I go about it--_you’re a lady_!” At this Mrs. Maccabe laid hold of her foaming, stuttering retainer, and shook him like a rat, whilst Belle, holding her head very erect, and carrying the four chops in a small basket, stalked out of the shop with all the dignity she could muster, and her face in a flame!