“There’s a little hop-o’-my-thumb of a man in the hall, if ye plase, ma’am, that says you asked him to tay; but I think it’s what he’s a bit of a shop-boy that’s come with a bill, and, if you like, I’ll put him out by the lug.”
I was so confused and embarrassed, and above all so anxious to put an end to the discussion, before anything past all endurance should be said, that I bolted into the room, putting on the best smile I could and stretching out my hand to Mrs. Molloy, who was next me. But the maid at the door, with arms as thick as Donnelly’s, the boxer, caught me by the collar at the nape of my neck with such a sudden jerk that I fell sitting on the floor, smack, as if I was shot, and she never let go her grip, but held me half-choked, sitting bolt upright, with my legs out, pumps and pantaloons, like a pair of compasses.
“How dare ye!” says the powerful maid, giving me a shake that made my teeth chatter. “How dare ye, dare ye, dare ye!”
I think she’d have pulled me down the stairs backwards, sitting as I was, only that Mrs. Molloy recovered her speech, and with a stamp on the floor that made the teaspoons jump in their saucers, she bawls out, “My curse on you, Juggy Hanlon, what are you doing to Mr. Dooley, my most sinsare friend? Up with ye, Mr. Dooley, and I hope you’re nothing the worse, and down with you, Juggy Hanlon, and my curse go along wid ye, to the kitchen. Take a chair and an air of the fire, Mr. Dooley, the evening’s a trifle could, I think; and settle your cravat at the glass there between the windows, and we won’t look at ye—bad luck to her impudence. Here’s my daughter Theodora, waiting to shake hands wid ye; but she won’t look at ye no more than myself till ye settle your waistcoat and cravat; it’s a wonder of the world she didn’t make smithereens of your watch. She’s cruel strong, that same Juggy Hanlon!”
I did as I was bid; I was so confounded I could hardly see my own reflection in the dingy little pier-glass. I saw in the background the images of other people indistinctly, and I heard a sound of voices, but I could not say at the time whether they were laughing at me or what they were doing.
In another minute I was shaking hands with everyone that would shake hands with me, and with some of them, I dare say, twice over at least. I was beginning to feel more like myself. It was not a very large party: Mundy was there, and Lieutenant Kramm-Sidebotham was on duty, but expected to get off in time to come to supper—there was an impudent little Galway chap, no bigger than myself, with a smirk on his red face, and a pair of calves, I give you my honour, as round as a hat, paying attentions, if you please, to Miss Theodora Molloy. I don’t think he was a day under forty! With half an eye I saw what he was at. If you caught a stranger driving your only horse and new gig to the Howth races, or walking down Dame Street in your best hat, with your umbrella in his hand, you might conceive, in a small way, the feelings with which I witnessed the usurpation in question. I had no idea until that moment how entirely I had come to regard Theodora as my own. I think I could have cut his ugly little head off his shoulders, and kicked it through the window into the Liffey.
“I must introjuice you to my sinsare friend—”
“The O’Kelly of Ballynamuck,” whispered the gentleman from Galway, who knew his weakness.
“Mr. Dooley—”
“Toole,” I whispered.
“Well, ain’t it all one? Mr. Toole, I beg leave to introjuice you both. Mr. Toole, this is The O’Kelly of Ballynamuck. The O’Kelly of Ballynamuck, this is Mr. Toole.”
“Proud to make your acquaintance,” said The O’Kelly, with a fierce sort of curtsey, that made me think that he, also, instinctively smelt a rat.
“Your most obedient, sir,” said I, making him an awful low bow, and, raising my head higher than usual, I treated him at the end of it to a short, fierce stare, with another short bow at the end of that again.
“Fine weather, sir! uncommon fine, Mr. Toole. Everything promises amazin’; though, of course, it don’t agree with everything alike. If this weather houlds a little longer I wouldn’t wonder if we had piteeties at three-halfpence!”
“Indeed, sir!” said I, expressing more wonder than I altogether felt, for I wasn’t quite sure whether the sum he named was wonderfully high or wonderfully low. “Do you play billiards, sir?”
“No, sir; cards and cock-fightin’ serves my turn. But what is cards and what is cock-fightin’ compared with the delightful societee of neeture’s noblest work, the objeck of our aspirations, our homage, and our life’s devotion—the fair sex?”
And with this he made a flourish with his hat, and a bow to Miss Theodora, the like of which I could hardly hope to execute in half
