the whining matchsellers at the door and formed a little party at the corner of the counter.  They began to exchange stories.  Leonard introduced them to a young fellow named Weathers who was performing at the Tivoli as an acrobat and knockabout artiste.  Farrington stood a drink all round.  Weathers said he would take a small Irish and Apollinaris.  Farrington, who had definite notions of what was what, asked the boys would they have an Apollinaris too; but the boys told Tim to make theirs hot.  The talk became theatrical.  O’Halloran stood a round and then Farrington stood another round, Weathers protesting that the hospitality was too Irish.  He promised to get them in behind the scenes and introduce them to some nice girls.  O’Halloran said that he and Leonard would go, but that Farrington wouldn’t go because he was a married man; and Farrington’s heavy dirty eyes leered at the company in token that he understood he was being chaffed.  Weathers made them all have just one little tincture at his expense and promised to meet them later on at Mulligan’s in Poolbeg Street.

When the Scotch House closed they went round to Mulligan’s.  They went into the parlour at the back and O’Halloran ordered small hot specials all round.  They were all beginning to feel mellow.  Farrington was just standing another round when Weathers came back.  Much to Farrington’s relief he drank a glass of bitter this time.  Funds were getting low but they had enough to keep them going.  Presently two young women with big hats and a young man in a check suit came in and sat at a table close by.  Weathers saluted them and told the company that they were out of the Tivoli.  Farrington’s eyes wandered at every moment in the direction of one of the young women.  There was something striking in her appearance.  An immense scarf of peacock-blue muslin was wound round her hat and knotted in a great bow under her chin; and she wore bright yellow gloves, reaching to the elbow.  Farrington gazed admiringly at the plump arm which she moved very often and with much grace; and when, after a little time, she answered his gaze he admired still more her large dark brown eyes.  The oblique staring expression in them fascinated him.  She glanced at him once or twice and, when the party was leaving the room, she brushed against his chair and said “O, pardon!” in a London accent.  He watched her leave the room in the hope that she would look back at him, but he was disappointed.  He cursed his want of money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly all the whiskies and Apolinaris which he had stood to Weathers.  If there was one thing that he hated it was a sponge.  He was so angry that he lost count of the conversation of his friends.