“Well, breathless blockhead! and what of that?” said King Corny—“did you never see a man in a boat before?”
“I did, plase your honour.”
“Then what is there extraordinary?”
“Nothing at all, plase your honour, only—thought your honour might like to know.”
“Then you thought wrong, for I neither like it, nor mislike it. I don’t care a rush about the matter—so take yourself down stairs.”
“‘Tis a long time,” said the priest, as the gossoon closed the door after him, “‘tis a longer time than he ought, since Sir Ulick O’Shane paid his respects here, even in the shape of a morning visit.”
“Morning visit!” repeated Mrs. Betty Dunshaughlin, the housekeeper, who entered the room, for she was a privileged person, and had les grandes et les petites entrées in this palace”—Morning visit!—are you sure, Father Jos—are you clear he isn’t come intending to stay dinner?”
“What, in the devil’s name, Betty, does it signify?” said the king.
“About the dinner!”
“What about it?” said Corny, proudly: “whether he comes, stays, or goes, I’ll not have a scrap, or an iota of it changed,” added he in a despotic tone.