"Well, what did he say?"
"Faith, I think he's not in a good humor, betwane us, zur; he says yez may go to the divil!"
"Did he? Well, that's polite, any how—invite a gentleman to dine with him, and then meet him with such language as that. The infernal 'blue nose,' I'll pull it, I'll tweak it until he'll roar like a calf!" and off went "the gentleman," hot as No. 6.
"I belave he's not in, zur," says the same servant, answering another inquiry for John Thomas, or Thomas Johns, the carriage driver was not certain which.
"Oh, ho!" says the servant, "it's a ride ould John's going fur to take till himself, and didn't want any callers." Reaching John's door, he began his tattoo.
"Be hang'd to ye, what'r ye at now?" growls John, partly up and dressed.
"The carriage is here, zur."
"What carriage is that?" growls John, continuing his toilet.
"I don't know, zur; I'll go down and sae the number, if ye plaze."
"Thunder and tommy! What do I care for the number? Go tell the carriage——"