“I did not; they grumble enough about sending up anything, and I was n't goin' to provoke them,” said Joe, calmly.
“No letters, I suppose, but this?”
“Sorra one.”
“What's going on below?” asked he, in a more lively tone, as though dismissing an unpleasant theme. “Any one come,—anything doing?”
“Nothing; they 're all off to that villa to spend the day, and not to be back till late at night.”
“Stupid fun, after all; the road is roasting, and the place, when you get there, not worth the trouble; but they 're so proud of visiting a baronet, that's the whole secret of it, those vulgar Morgans and that Yankee fellow.”
These mutterings he continued while he went on dressing, and though not intended to be addressed to Joe, he was in no wise disconcerted when that free-and-easy individual replied to them.
“'Your master 's not coming with us, I believe,' said Mrs. Morgan to me. 'I'm sure, however, there must have been a mistake. It 's so strange that he got no invitation.'
“'But he did, ma'am,' says I; 'he got a card like the rest.'”
“Well done, Joe; a lie never choked you. Go on,” cried O'Shea, laughing.