This abrupt transition from “lively to severe” certainly took Maguire by surprise, and he seemed for an instant as much disconcerted as it is possible to disconcert an Irish gentleman's gentleman.
“Me? is it meself, then, that's the ghost to your honor's thinking?” said he after a moment's pause, and with a slight shade of indignation in his tones; “is it I would stale the master's things—and what would I do with them?”
“That you best know: what your purpose is I can't guess, for I don't think you mean to 'stale' them, as you call it; but that you are concerned in their disappearance, I am satisfied. Confound this blood!—give me a towel, Barney.”
Maguire acquitted himself of the commission. “As I've a sowl, your honor,” said he, solemnly, “little it is meself knows of the matter: and after what I seen——”
“What you've seen! Why, what have you seen?—Barney, I don't want to inquire into your flirtations; but don't suppose you can palm off your saucer eyes and gig-lamps upon me!”
“Then, as sure as your honor's standing there, I saw him: and why wouldn't I, when Miss Pauline was to the fore as well as meself, and——”
“Get along with your nonsense—leave the room, sir!”
“But the master?” said Barney, imploringly; “and without a breeches?—sure he'll be catching cowld——!”
“Take that, rascal!” replied Ingoldsby, throwing a pair of pantaloons at, rather than to, him: “but don't suppose, sir, you shall carry on your tricks here with impunity; recollect there is such a thing as a treadmill, and that my father is a county magistrate.”
Barney's eye flashed fire—he stood erect, and was about to speak; but, mastering himself, not without an effort, he took up the garment, and left the room as perpendicular as a Quaker.