“I feel bad: say ten minutes; tell the Lord Chamberlain”.
“Yes. I might mention—did your Lordship's Majesty grant a ten minutes' audience to Admiral Donald for this hour?”
“Who? Yes, I think—Just kick him down the stairs! Or no—say I may see him some day”.
This message, as the usher dashed through, was faithfully dropped at O'Hara's consciousness; and O'Hara said: “Hoity-toity...!”
Bent-backed he descended to the Quadrangle, with a sense of defeat, rebuff, contumely, rage, but quite sprightly said to Harris, waiting beyond the Gateway: “Well, boy, how can we make a night of it? I feel that way”.
“Seen Mr. 76?”
“Tut, no. Sharpen up that knife for his throat, boy!”
And Harris exclaimed: “Another chynge! Strike me silly!—what did I sye? Give me a new 'eart, O Lawd, it is—you grey-haired old duffer. Chopping and chynging, always the syme—to your old wife Jyne. I'd be ashamed of myself in your plyce. But sharpen up the knife, it is”.