The pedlar looked at it, and replied, in a tone of disappointment, “Yes, ma’am, but I’m afeard it’s beyant my manes; I know the value of it right well, and it’s seldom ever the likes of it was in my pack.  What are you axin’, ma’am? it’s as good as new.”

“I think it cost twelve or thirteen guineas, as well as I can remember,” she replied; “but it is not what it cost, but what you are now disposed to give for it, that I am anxious to know.”

“Well, ma’am, you know I must look upon it as—­hem—­as a second—­ha—­at all events,” he proceeded, checking himself with more delicacy than could be expected from him—­“you must admit that it isn’t new.”

“Certainly,” said she, “it has been more than eight years in my possession, although, at the same time, I believe I have not worn it more than half a dozen times.”

“Well, ma’am,” replied the pedlar, “I know the value of the shawl something betther even than yourself.  If you will take six guineas for it, we will deal; more I cannot afford, for I must at once tell, you the truth, that I may carry it about these twelve months before I find any one that knows its value.”

Mrs. Temple was by no means prepared, any more than her servant, for such a liberal offer; and without any further hesitation she accepted it, and desired Lilly to place the shawl in his hands, and in the meantime, with equal consideration and good feeling, he handed Lilly six guineas, adding, “Give that to your mistress, but in troth, ma’am,” he proceeded, respectfully addressing her; “it is just robbing you I am, but I can only say, that if I dispose of it at its proper-value you’ll hear from me again.  Troth, if I wasn’t a great rogue, ma’am, I’d give you more for it; but bad cess to the one o’ me—­ever could be honest, even if I wasped for it.”

“I do not think you dishonest, my good, man,” replied Mrs. Temple; “on the contrary, I am not displeased with your, plain blunt manner.  Lilly give him some——­”

She checked herself at once, and passed, a significant but sorrowful glance at Lilly; as she went up to the drawing-room.

She had no sooner gone, than the peddler, with a shrug of satisfaction, exclaimed, in a subdued but triumphant voice:  “Oh! by the hokey I’ve done her, and for that you must suffer, Lilly darlin’.  Come now, you jumpin’ jewel you, that was born wid a honey-comb somewhere between, that purty chin and beautiful nose of yours—­throth it must have a taste, for who the dickens could, refuse the Cannie Soogah, and before Lilly, who, by the way, was nothing, loath, could put herself in an attitude of defense, he had inflicted several smacks upon as pretty a pair of lips as ever were pressed.

“Upon my word; now, Mr. Magrath, you’re very impudent,” she replied, “I wonder you’re not ashamed, you great strong man you, to be kissing girls in this manner, whether they will or not.  Look at the state you have my hair in; you’re very rude, Mr. Magrath, and I’m really angry with you; you’ve broken one of my side-combs, too; you’re a great rude man, so you are.”