“Blarney again!”
“Nor do I think,” continued Nelligan, “that the constituency of the borough, as a body, are remarkable for any special liability to be imposed on!”
“Nor would they, had it been an Irishman was trying to humbug them,” said Crow, emphatically. “Take my word for it,—and I 've seen a great deal of the world, and perhaps not the best of it either,—but take my word for it, English blarney goes further with us here than all else. It 's not that it's clever or insinuating or delicate,—far from it; but you see that nobody suspects it. The very blunders and mistakes of it have an air of sincerity, and we are, besides, so accustomed always to be humbugged with a brogue, that we fancy ourselves safe when we hear an English accent.”
“There's some ingenuity in your theory,” said Joe, smiling.
“There's fact in it; that's what there is,” said Crow, rising from his seat. “I 'll be going now, for I 'm to dine with Tom Magennis at six.”
“Is he here, too?”
“Yes; and was n't it a piece of good luck that I did n't say anything about him before Colonel Massingbred?”
“Why so?”
“Just for this, then,—that it was young Massingbred gave him a letter to his father, recommending him for some place or other. Half of the borough expects to be in the Treasury, or the Post-Office, or the Board of Trade; and I was just on the tip of saying what a set of rapscallions they were. I 'm sure I don't know what saved me from it.”
“Your natural discretion, doubtless,” said Joe, smiling.