“Never fear!” said Sir Terence: “hav’n’t I been at my wits’ ends for myself or my friends ever since I come to man’s estate—to years of discretion, I should say, for the deuce a foot of estate have I! But use has sharpened my wits pretty well for your service; so never be in dread, my good lord; for look ye!” cried the reckless knight, sticking his arms akimbo, “look ye here! in Sir Terence O’Fay stands a host that desires no better than to encounter, single-witted, all the duns in the united kingdoms, Mordicai the Jew inclusive.”
“Ah! that’s the devil, that Mordicai,” said Lord Clonbrony; “that’s the only man on earth I dread.”
“Why, he is only a coachmaker, is not he?” said Lady Clonbrony: “I can’t think how you can talk, my lord, of dreading such a low man. Tell him, if he’s troublesome, we won’t bespeak any more carriages; and, I’m sure, I wish you would not be so silly, my lord, to employ him any more, when you know he disappointed me the last birthday about the landau, which I have not got yet.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” said Lord Clonbrony; “you don’t know what you are talking of—Terry, I say, even a friendly execution is an ugly thing.”
“Phoo! phoo!—an ugly thing!—So is a fit of the gout—but one’s all the better for it after. ‘Tis just a renewal of life, my, lord, for which one must pay a bit of a fine, you know. Take patience, and leave me to manage all properly—you know I’m used to these things: only you recollect, if you please, how I managed my friend Lord——it’s bad to be mentioning names—but Lord Every-body-knows-who—didn’t I bring him through cleverly, when there was that rascally attempt to seize the family plate? I had notice, and what did I do, but broke open a partition between that lord’s house and my lodgings, which I had taken next door; and so, when the sheriffs officers were searching below on the ground floor, I just shoved the plate easy through to my bedchamber at a moment’s warning, and then bid the gentlemen walk in, for they couldn’t set a foot in my paradise, the devils!—So they stood looking at it through the wall, and cursing me, and I holding both my sides with laughter at their fallen faces.”
Sir Terence and Lord Clonbrony laughed in concert.
“This is a good story,” said Miss Nugent, smiling; “but surely, Sir Terence, such things are never done in real life?”
“Done! ay, are they; and I could tell you a hundred better strokes, my dear Miss Nugent.”
“Grace!” cried Lady Clonbrony, “do pray have the goodness to seal and send these notes; for really,” whispered she, as her niece came to the table, “I cawnt stee, I cawnt bear that man’s vice, his accent grows horrider and horrider!”
Her ladyship rose, and left the room.