“Faith, surr, I shkinned him and ate him!” He said this just in the same tone in which he would speak of the most ordinary occurrence, leaving the impression on one’s mind that the skinning and eating were matters done at the moment and quite offhand.
I fondly hoped that Andy’s mind was now in quite another state from his usual mental condition; but I hardly knew the man yet. He had the true humorist’s persistence, and before I was ready with another intellectual herring he was off on the original track.
“I thrust I didn’t dishturb yer ’an’r. I know some gintlemin likes to luk at views and say nothin’. I’m tould that a young gintleman like yer ’an’r might be up on top iv a mountain like this, an’ he’d luk at the view so hard day afther day that he wouldn’t even shpake to a purty girrul—if there was wan forninst him all the time!”
“Then they lied to you, Andy!” I said this quite decisively.
“Faix, yer ’an’r, an’ it’s glad I am to hear that same, for I wouldn’t like to think that a young gintleman was afraid of a girrul, however purty she might be.”
“But, tell me, Andy,” I said, “what idiot could have started such an idea? And even if it was told to you, how could you be such a fool as to believe it?”
“Me belave it! Surr, I did’t belave a wurrd iv it—not until I met yer ’an’r.” His face was quite grave, and I was not sorry to find him in a sober mood, for I wanted to have a serious chat with him. It struck me that he, having relatives at Knocknacar, might be able to give me some information about my unknown.
“Until you met me, Andy! Surely I never gave you any ground for holding such a ridiculous idea?”
“Begor, yer ’an’r, but ye did. But p’raps I had betther not say any more—yer ’an’r mightn’t like it.”
This both surprised and nettled me, and I was determined now to have it out, so I said, “You quite surprise me, Andy. What have I ever done? Do not be afraid! Out with it,” for he kept looking at me in a timorous kind of way.