“O’Malley, if you please, Mr. Bursar,” said I, bowing with, most ceremonious politeness.
“No matter, sir; arcades ambo, I believe.”
“Both archdeacons,” said Melville, translating, with a look of withering contempt upon the speaker.
The doctor continued, addressing me,—
“May I ask, sir, if you believe yourself possessed of any privilege for converting this university into a common tavern?”
“I wish to Heaven he did,” said Curtis; “capital tap your old commons would make.”
“Really, Mr. Bursar,” replied I, modestly, “I had begun to flatter myself that our little innocent gayety had inspired you with the idea of joining our party.”
“I humbly move that the old cove in the gown do take the chair,” sang out one. “All who are of this opinion say, ‘Ay.’” A perfect yell of ayes followed this. “All who are of the contrary say, ‘No.’ The ayes have it.”
Before the luckless doctor had a moment for thought, his legs were lifted from under him, and he was jerked, rather than placed, upon a chair, and put sitting upon the table.
“Mr. O’Malley, your expulsion within twenty-four hours—”