A rather warm discussion ensued on the subject of his long absence, O'Shea remarking that for all the use Joe proved himself he might as well be without a servant, and Joe rejoining that, for the matter of pay and treatment, he might be pretty nearly as well off if he had no master; these polite passages being interchanged while the O'Shea was busily performing with two hair-brushes, and Joe equally industriously lacing his master's waistcoat, with an artistic skill that the valet of a corpulent gentleman alone attains to, as Joe said a hundred times.
“I wonder why I endure you,” said O'Shea, as he jauntily settled his hat on one side of his head, and carefully arranged the hair on the other.
“And you 'll wondher more, when I 'm gone, why I did n't go before,” was Joe's surly rejoinder.
“How did you come by that striped cravat, sir?” asked O'Shea, angrily, as he caught sight of Joe in front.
“I took it out of the drawer.”
“It's mine, then!”
“It was wonst I did n't suppose you 'd wear it after what the widow woman said of you up at the Villa,—that Mrs. Morris. 'Here 's the O'Shea,' says she, 'masquerading as a zebra;' as much as to say it was another baste you was in reality.”
“She never dared to be so insolent”
“She did; I heard it myself.”
“I don't believe you; I never do believe one word you say.”