"And how about a bed, my dear?" said Mollett senior; "that's a matter of importance too; or will be when we are getting on to the little hours."
"Oh, we won't turn you out, Mr. Mollett," said Fanny; "we'll find a bed for you, never fear."
"That's all right then, my little Venus. And now if I had some dinner I'd sit down and make myself comfortable for the evening."
As he said this, Fanny slipped out of the room, and ran down into the kitchen to see what Tom and the cook were doing. The Molletts, father and son, were rather more than ordinary good customers at the Kanturk Hotel, and it was politic therefore to treat them well. Mr. Mollett junior, moreover, was almost more than a customer; and for the sake of the son Fanny was anxious that the father should be well treated.
"Well, governor, and what have you done?" said the younger man in a low voice, jumping up from his seat as soon as the girl had left them alone.
"Well, I've got the usual remittance from the man in Bucklersbury. That was all as right as a trivet."
"And no more than that? Then I tell you what it is; we must be down on him at once."
"But you forget that I got as much more last month, out of the usual course. Come, Aby, don't you be unreasonable."
"Bother—I tell you, governor, if he don't—" And then Miss O'Dwyer returned to her sanctum, and the rest of the conversation was necessarily postponed.
"He's managed to get you a lovely steak, Mr. Mollett," said Fanny, pronouncing the word as though it were written "steek." "And we've beautiful pickled walnuts; haven't we, Mr. Aby? and there'll be kidneys biled" (meaning potatoes) "by the time the 'steek's' ready. You like it with the gravy in, don't you, Mr. Mollett?" And as she spoke she drew a quartern of whisky for two of Beamish and Crawford's draymen, who stood outside in the passage and drank it at the bar.