“Why then, your honour,” said the valet, “you had not gone out many minutes, when there came a rit-tat to the door, and a gintail good-looking gentleman inquired for Mr. A——a. Begging your pardon, says I, if it is my master vou mane, he does not belong to the family of the Misters at all; his name is Sir Felix O'Grady, of the province of Munster, Baronet, and I am his valet; long life and good luck to both of us!”
“This is rather a tedious commencement,” observed Sir Felix to his marvelling associates,—“but I believe we must let the fellow tell the story in his own way.—Well, Tliady, what next?”
“So, your Honour, he inquired whether he could spaak wid you, and I told him that it was rather doubtful, becays you were not at home; but, says I, Miss Judy Macgilligan, his Honour's reverend aunt, is now in her dressing-room, and no doubt will be proud in the honour of your acquaintance.”
“My 'reverend aunt' certainly ought to feel herself very much obliged to you.—Well, Sir!”
“And so, your Honour, the maid went for instructions, and Miss Macgilligan desired that the gentleman should be shewn into the drawing-room, until she could make her appearance. Well, then, after waiting some little time, he rings the bell, with the assurance of a man of quality, just as if he had been at home. So up stairs I goes, and meets him in the hall. 'Pray,' says he, 'have the goodness to present my best respects to the lady; I will not obtrude upon her at present, but shall call again tomorrow,' and away he walked; and that's all, your Honour.” “That's all! What am I to understand then by the 'vexatious affair' my aunt speaks of?”
“O,” exclaimed Thady, recollecting himself,—“may be she manes her gold watch, which the gentleman discovered in the drawing-room, and carried away in his pocket, by mistake!”
“Very well, Sir,” said the Baronet; “now that we have «orne to the finis, you may go home.”
It is evident the gentleman had availed himself of the Baronet's absence from home, and that the information derived from the communicative valet encouraged the hope of success which he so adroitly realized.
Dashall and his Cousin were about sympathizing with the Baronet on this new misfortune, when he gave vent to bis feelings by an immoderate fit of laughter!—“Miss Macgilligan has had the benefit of a practical lesson,” he exclaimed, “which she cannot fail to remember;—her vanity would not permit her seeing the stranger until the frivolities of the toilet were adjusted, and thus he made the most of a golden opportunity.”
The three friends now retraced their steps along Piccadilly, until they arrived at the residence of Dashall, when they separated; the Baronet to condole with Miss Macgilligan, and the two Cousins to dress, preparatory to their dining with an eminent merchant in the city.