“In Dublin Castle; bad luck to it for a riotous, disorderly place.”
“Well, well,” said I, half angrily, “I want to know whose room is this?”
“Captain O'Grady's. What have you to say agin the room? Maybe you're used to worse. There now, that's what you got for that. I'm laving the place next week, but that's no rayson——”
Here he went off, diminuendo, again, with a few flying imprecations upon several things and persons unknown.
Mr. Delany now dived for a few seconds into a small pantry at the end of the room, from which he emerged with a tray between his hands, and two decanters under his arms.
“Draw the little table this way,” he cried, “more towards the fire, for, av coorse, you're fresh and fastin'; there now, take the sherry from under my arm—the other's port: that was a ham, till Captain Mills cut it away, as ye see—there's a veal pie, and here's a cold grouse—and, maybe, you've eat worse before now—and will again, plaze God.”
I assured him of the truth of his observation in a most conciliating tone.
“Oh, the devil fear ye,” was the reply, while he murmured somewhat lower, “the half of yees isn't used to meat twice in the week.”
“Capital fare this, Mr. Delany,” said I, as, half famished with long fasting, I helped myself a second time.
“You're eating as if you liked it,” said he, with a shrug of his shoulders.