“Well, Queen Victoria,” said Dick, “is your missus at home?”
“My name’s Bridget,” said the girl.
“Oh, indeed!” said Dick. “You looked so much like the queen’s picter what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that I couldn’t help calling you by her name.”
“Oh, go along wid ye!” said Bridget. “It’s makin’ fun ye are.”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Dick, gravely, “all you’ve got to do is to ask my partic’lar friend, the Duke of Newcastle.”
“Bridget!” called a shrill voice from the basement.
“The missus is calling me,” said Bridget, hurriedly. “I’ll tell her ye want her.”
“All right!” said Dick.
The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a stout, red-faced woman appeared on the scene.
“Well, sir, what’s your wish?” she asked.