"An' whin I coom to the palace, I'll knock three times wid the knocker; or maybe there'll be a bell, loike the sheriff's house (bad luck to um!) at Kilmagore. And the gossoon'll open the dure, and—
"'Phwhat's yer arrind?' says he.
"'It's Queen Victory I'm wantin',' says I. 'An' ye'll till her King Michael av Ireland is askin' for her,' I says.
"Thin whin Victory hears that, she'll coom roonnin' down hersilf, to bid me welkim; an' she'll take me oop to the best room, an'—
"'Sit down an the throne, King Michael,' says she. 'The other cheers isn't good enough for the loikes of ye,' says she.
"'Afther ye, ma'm,' says I, moinding me manners.
"'An' is there annythin' I can du for ye, to-day, King Michael?' says she, whin we've sat down an the throne.
"An' I says, loight and aisy loike, all as if I didn't care, 'Nothin' in loife, ma'm, I'm obleeged to ye, widout ye'd lind me the loan o' yer Sunday crownd,' says I, 'be way av a patthern,' says I.
"An' says she—"
But at this moment the royal meditations were rudely broken in upon by a wild shriek which resounded from the house. The door was flung violently open, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy rushed out like a mad woman.