At last—it was towards evening—the man, possibly becoming alarmed at my protracted lethargy, moved somewhat briskly through the room, and with that amount of noise that showed he meant to arouse me, disturbed chairs and fire-irons indiscriminately.
“Is it late or early?” asked I, faintly.
“Tis near five, sir, and a beautiful evening,” said he, drawing nigh, with the air of one disposed for colloquy.
I did n't exactly like to ask where I was, and tried to ascertain the fact by a little circumlocution. “I suppose,” said I, yawning, “for all that is to be done in a place like this, when up, one might just as well stay abed, eh?”
“T is the snuggest place, anyhow,” said he, with that peculiar disposition to agree with you so characteristic in an Irish waiter.
“No society?” sighed I.
“No, indeed, sir.”
“No theatre?”
“Devil a one, sir.”
“No sport?”