“‘Tom Keane and the Wallers, a counsellor or two, and one M’Manus, from Dublin.’
“‘The colonel?’
“‘The same,’ said he.
“‘I’m there, Darby!’ said I; ‘but mind, you never saw me before.’
“‘What?’ said he.
“‘You never set eyes on me before; mind that.’
“‘I understand,’ said Darby, with a wink; and we parted.
“I certainly was never very particular about dressing for dinner, but on this day I spent a considerable time at my toilet; and when I looked in my glass at its completion, was well satisfied that I had done myself justice. A waistcoat of brown rabbit-skin with flaps, a red worsted comforter round my neck, an old gray shooting-jacket with a brown patch on the arm, corduroys, and leather gaiters, with a tremendous oak cudgel in my hand, made me a most presentable figure for a dinner party.
“‘Will I do, Darby?’ says I, as he came into my room before dinner.
“‘If it’s for robbing the mail you are,’ says he, ‘nothing could be better. Your father wouldn’t know you!’