“Open the drawer and take out your clothes,” commanded his uncle.
Patsy did as he was bid.
“Now,” said the other, “off with them buttons and stripes and on with the ould things, so that I may forget I’m talkin’ to the disgrace of the fam’ly.”
Patsy did as he was bid, and whilst he was changing Con continued his conversation.
“I suppose,” said he, “there be great preparings going on for the quality.”
“Ay, is there,” replied Patsy, whose mind was much perturbed by the thought of what Con could be “afther,” for he well knew that his uncle had come for some other purpose than simply to stand at the window and talk upon general subjects.
“Pies and puddin’s and all,” went on Con.
“And sham-pane,” added Patsy.
“What’s that?” asked his uncle.
“Stuff in bottles wid gold tops to thim that let’s off like a gun. The ould missis drinks it for dinner every night in her life. Mr James give me a glass of it from the lavin’s of the bottle, and I’d no sooner drunk it than I tumbled down the stairs wid a tray of glasses and smashed every mother’s son of thim.”