"Dinner! dinner!" he exclaimed at length; "ah! thank you, mother; I'm
as hungry as a bear. Codfish and potatoes, Julia--not very tempting
fare--but what of that? our aliment is love!"

"Yes, and by way of treat," added the old woman, "I've been and gone
and bought a whole pint of Albany ale, and three cream cakes, from the
candy shop next block."

Poor Julia pleaded indisposition, and could not eat a mouthful. Before
Belmont, however, the codfish and potatoes, and the ale, and cream
cakes disappeared with a very unromantic and unlover-like velocity. At
the close of the meal, a thundering double knock was heard at the
door.

"Come in!" cried Belmont.

A low-browed man, in a green waistcoat, entered.

"Now, Misther Belmont," he exclaimed, in a strong Hibernian accent,
"are ye ready to go to work? By the powers! if I don't see ye sailed
to-morrow on the shopboard, I'll discharge ye without a character--and
ye shall starve on the top of that."

"To-morrow morning, Mr. Maloney," replied Belmont, meekly, "I'll be at
my post."

"And it'll be mighty healthy for you to do that same," replied the man
as he retired.

"Belmont, speak--tell me," gasped Julia, "who is that man--that