“Just a rap on the knuckles for some of ’em. Sharp, short, and decisive! I don’t doubt but what ye’ll like it.” To declare, as though by instinct, that that was not the kind of thing we wanted, was as much a matter of course as it is for a man buying a horse to say that he does not like the brute’s legs or that he falls away in his quarters. And Mr. Molloy treated our objection just as does the horse-dealer those of his customers. He assured us with a smile,--with a smile behind which we could see the craving eagerness of his heart,--that his little article was just the thing for us. Our immediate answer was of course ready. If he would leave the paper with us, we would look at it and return it if it did not seem to suit us. There is a half-promise about this reply which too often produces a false satisfaction in the breast of a beginner. With such a one it is the second interview which is to be dreaded. But my friend Mr. Molloy was not new to the work, and was aware that if possible he should make further use of the occasion which he had earned for himself at so considerable a cost. “Ye’ll read it;--will ye?” he said. “Oh, certainly. We’ll read it certainly.” “And ye’ll use it if ye can?” “As to that, Mr. Molloy, we can say nothing. We’ve got to look solely to the interest of the periodical.” “And, sure, what can ye do better for the periodical than print a paper like that, which there is not a lady at the West End of the town won’t be certain to read?” “At any rate we’ll look at it, Mr. Molloy,” said we, standing up from our chair. But still he hesitated in his going,--and did not go. “I’m a married man, Mr. ----,” he said. We simply bowed our head at the announcement. “I wish you could see Mrs. Molloy,” he added. We murmured something as to the pleasure it would give us to make the acquaintance of so estimable a lady. “There isn’t a betther woman than herself this side of heaven, though I say it that oughtn’t,” said he. “And we’ve three young ones.” We knew the argument that was coming;--knew it so well, and yet were so unable to accept it as any argument! “Sit down one moment, Mr. ----,” he continued, “till I tell you a short story.” We pleaded our engagements, averring that they were peculiarly heavy at that moment. “Sure, and we know what that manes,” said Mr. Molloy. “It’s just,--walk out of this as quick as you came in. It’s that what it manes.” And yet as he spoke there was a twinkle of humour in his eye that was almost irresistible; and we ourselves,--we could not forbear to smile. When we smiled we knew that we were lost. “Come, now, Mr. Editor; when you think how much it cost me to get the inthroduction, you’ll listen to me for five minutes any way.”