The blood rushed to my face and temples. I knew at once from whom this insult proceeded. It was no time, however, to notice it, so I simply replied—
'Mr. Hinton is an officer of the Guards, an aide-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant, and I beg leave respectfully to present him to you.'
The obsequious civility exhibited by the party as I pronounced these few words were an ample amende for what I had suffered a few minutes before. Meanwhile, Mr. Burke had resumed his place at the fire, once more surrounded by his admiring satellites.
Being accommodated with a chair at the table, I proceeded to read over and sign the usual papers, by which I bound myself to abide by the regulations of the course, and conform in all things to the decision of the stewards. Scarcely had I concluded, when Mr. Burke called out—
'Who'll take eight to one on the race?'
Not a word was spoken in reply.
'Who'll take fifty to five?' cried he again.
'I will,' said a voice from the door.
'Who is that takes my bet? What is his name?' 'Tom Loftus, P.P. of Murranakilty.'
'A better fellow nor an honester couldn't do it, said the president.