Larry had been standing just outside the door, and now he entered gently as a mouse. No sound came from his footfall, nor was there in his face that look of pain which it had worn for the last fifteen minutes. But he was not the less abashed, frightened, and unhappy.
“What is all this about, Larry?” said his master, turning to him. “I insist upon knowing.”
“Och thin, Mr. Green, yer honer, I wouldn’t be afther telling agin yer honer; indeed I wouldn’t thin, av’ the masther would only let me hould my tongue.” And he looked across at me, deprecating my anger.
“Mr. Green!” said Mr. O’Conor.
“Yes, yer honer. It’s all along of his honor’s thick shoes;” and Larry, stepping backwards towards the door, lifted them up from some corner, and coming well forward, exposed them with the soles uppermost to the whole table.
“And that’s not all, yer honer; but they’ve squoze the very toes of me into a jelly.”
There was now a loud laugh, in which Jack and Peter and Fanny and Kate and Tizzy all joined; as too did Mr. O’Conor—and I also myself after a while.
“Whose boots are they?” demanded Miss O’Conor senior, with her severest tone and grimmest accent.
“ ’Deed then and the divil may have them for me, Miss,” answered Larry. “They war Mr. Green’s, but the likes of him won’t wear them agin afther the likes of me—barring he wanted them very particular,” added he, remembering his own pumps.
I began muttering something, feeling that the time had come when I must tell the tale. But Jack with great good nature, took up the story and told it so well, that I hardly suffered in the telling.
“And that’s it,” said Tom O’Conor, laughing till I thought he would have fallen from his chair. “So you’ve got Larry’s shoes on—”
“And very well he fills them,” said Jack.
“And it’s his honer that’s welcome to ’em,” said Larry, grinning from ear to ear now that he saw that “the masther” was once more in a good humour.
“I hope they’ll be nice shoes for dancing,” said Kate.
“Only there’s one down at the heel I know,” said Tizzy.
“The servant’s shoes!” This was an exclamation made by the maiden lady, and intended apparently only for her brother’s ear. But it was clearly audible by all the party.
“Better that than no dinner,” said Peter.
“But what are you to do about the dancing?” said Fanny, with an air of dismay on her face which flattered me with an idea that she did care whether I danced or no.
In the meantime Larry, now as happy as an emperor, was tripping round the room without any shoes to encumber him as he withdrew the plates from the table.
“And it’s his honer that’s welcome to ’em,” said he again, as he pulled off the tablecloth with a flourish. “And why wouldn’t he, and he able to folly the hounds betther nor any Englishman that iver war in these parts before—anyways so Mick says!”
Now Mick was the huntsman, and this little tale of eulogy from Larry went far towards easing my grief. I had ridden well to the hounds that day, and I knew it.
There was nothing more said about the shoes, and I was soon again at my ease, although Miss O’Conor did say something about the impropriety of Larry walking about in his stocking feet. The ladies however soon withdrew—to my sorrow, for I was getting on swimmingly with Fanny; and then we gentlemen gathered round the fire and filled our glasses.
In about ten minutes a very light tap was heard, the door was opened to the extent of three inches, and a female voice which I readily recognised called to Jack.
Jack went out, and in a second or two put his head back into the room and called to me—“Green,” he said, “just step here a moment, there’s a good fellow.” I went out, and there I found Fanny standing with her brother.
“Here are the girls at their wits’ ends,” said he, “about your dancing. So Fanny has put a boy upon one of the horses, and proposes that you should send another line to Mrs. Meehan at Ballyglass. It’s only ten miles, and he’ll be back in two hours.”
I need hardly say that I acted in conformity with this advice. I went into Mr. O’Conor’s book room, with Jack and his sister, and there scribbled a note. It was delightful to feel how intimate I was with them, and how anxious they were to make me happy.
“And we won’t begin till they come,” said Fanny.
“Oh, Miss O’Conor, pray don’t wait,” said I.
“Oh, but we will,” she answered. “You have your wine to drink, and then there’s the tea; and then we’ll have a song or two. I’ll spin it out; see if I don’t.” And so we went to the front door where the boy was already on his horse—her own nag as I afterwards found.
“And Patsey,” said she, “ride for your life; and Patsey, whatever you do, don’t come back without Mr. Green’s pumps—his dancing-shoes you know.”
And in about two hours the pumps did arrive; and I don’t think I ever spent a pleasanter evening or got more satisfaction out of a pair of shoes. They had not been two minutes on my feet before Larry was carrying a tray of negus across the room in those which I had worn at dinner.
“The Dillon girls are going to stay here,” said Fanny as I wished her good night at two o’clock. “And we’ll have dancing every evening as long as you remain.”
“But I shall leave tomorrow,” said I.
“Indeed you won’t. Papa will take care of that.”
And so he did. “You had better go over to Ballyglass yourself tomorrow,” said he, “and collect your own things. There’s no knowing else what you may have to borrow of Larry.”
I stayed there three weeks, and in the middle of the third I thought that everything
