“I thank you, my friend,” replied Mr. Temple, “and I sincerely wish you the same.” Mrs. Temple now approached also, bent her head kindly and condescendingly, in token of salutation, with a blush which she could not prevent. The worthy pedlar perfectly understood the blush--a circumstance by which he was a good deal embarrassed himself, and which occasioned him to feel in rather a difficult position. He felt flattered, however, by her condescension; and instead of merely touching his hat to her he pulled it off and stood respectfully uncovered. “Put on your hat, my friend,” said Temple; “the morning is too cold to stand with a bare head--pray put it on.” “I know, your honor,” replied the pedlar, “the respect that is due to you both, and especially, sir,” he added, in that tone, and with that peculiar deference, so gratifying to a husband who loves and is proud of his wife--“especially, sir, to her, for I know her family well--as who doesn't!” “By the way,” said Mrs. Temple, “I think you committed a mistake on the occasion of your last call here?” “A mistake, ma'am!” said he, with well-feigned surprise--“well, indeed, ma'am, it's not unlikely; for, to tell you the truth, I've a vile mimory--sorra thing a'most but I disremimber, in a day or two after it happens.” “Do you not remember,” she proceeded, with a melancholy smile, “a negotiation we had when you were here last?” “A what, ma'am?” “A--a--purchase you made from me,” she added. “From you!” he exclaimed, with apparent astonishment; “well, then, I can't say that I have any recollection of it--I remember something--that is, some dalins or other I had wid the maid, but I don't remember purchasin' anything from you, ma'am.” “It was a shawl,” she replied, “which you purchased, if you remember, and paid for, but which you forgot to bring with you.” “Why, then,” he exclaimed, after rubbing his head with his fore-finger, “bad cess to me if I can remimber it; but the truth is, ma'am, I make so many purchases, and so many sales, that like the priest and them that confess to him, the last thing fairly drives the one that went afore it out o' my head.” “You paid six guineas,” continued Mrs. Temple, “for the shawl, but left it behind you.” “Well, bedad, ma'am,” said the pedlar, smiling, “it's aisy to see that you're no rogue, at any rate. In the present case, thin,” he added, “I suppose you wish to give me the shawl?” “Oh, certainly,” she replied, “if you wish for it; but at the same time I would much rather keep the shawl and return you the money.” “I'm in no hurry, ma'am for either shawl or money, if it isn't--hem--if it isn't just convanient.” “You are an honest, sterling fellow,” said her husband, “and I assure you that we thoroughly appreciate your delicacy and worth. I know Mrs. Temple would prefer keeping the shawl, and if you will call in the course of the evening, I shall return the money to you. I must first go into Lisnagola to get change for a note.”