"Good-by!" he responded as he prepared to descend the steps, "good-by!" and added to himself, with a fervor which conveyed some intimation of his sentiments if it did not suggest his words: "An' may the saints preserve you!" CHAPTER IX When Dennis retired for the night at The Stag, his transit from his room, which had never seemed so contracted as now, to the Land of Nod was somewhat delayed by reason of the exhilarating conditions through which he had just passed. Toward midnight, however, his pulse had resumed its normal, and the young man, reaching his drowsy destination at last, began a series of the most surprising horticultural experiments until, what with orchids as big as a barrel, and geraniums which could be reached only by a ladder, he had converted the silvery strand of the dreamful domain into a forest of atrocious color and floral monstrosity. Awakening on the succeeding morning, Dennis, accepting the sense of general lassitude which oppressed him as an indication of the arduous nature of his efforts in his dreams, began to prepare for the activities of the day. On this occasion he was compelled to attire himself in the shirt which he had worn on the occasion of his visit the evening before, since his remaining bosoms, along with his heart, were in the possession of the beautiful widow. But the extravagance of such indulgence did not alarm him now. Under the circumstances, what did a shirt more or less matter? Was he not about to be admitted into paradise and receive twenty dollars per week besides? "Shirt, ha!" he exclaimed with a touch of Celtic wit; "it's a robe of white I want." However, he compromised on a new necktie, and almost ventured the length of patent leathers. Stimulated by the prospect of all this beatitude, Dennis proceeded to the dining-room and revived the spirit of the discouraged waiter by ordering a liberal breakfast. At the conclusion of the meal he further celebrated his disposition to mortgage providence by the bestowal of a gratuity moderate enough to renew the waiter's original unflattering estimation. Had his father witnessed this imprudence he would have been prepared to believe that Dennis was under the influence of a danseuse, and the proportions of the breakfast could only have indicated a determination to commit suicide by repletion. On his way to the street Dennis paused to inform the barman of his intended departure. As an indication of his sentiments at this announcement, the barman, who was engaged in the mixture of a mysterious decoction, said, as he poured an amber-colored fluid into the glass: "This wan is fur grief at the goin', an' this wan"--pouring from another bottle--"is fur good luck when ye git there," and he pushed the mixture toward Dennis. But the young Irishman, remembering his recent experience, declined with thanks.