“Well, let Mister O'Connor enjoy his popularity, sir, if popularity it may be called, in a small country circle—let him enjoy it—I don't envy him his, though I think he was rather jealous about mine.”
“Ned jealous!” exclaimed Tom, in surprise.
“Yes, jealous; I never heard him say a kind word of any verses I ever wrote in my life; and I am certain he has most unkind feelings towards me.”
“I tell you what it is,” said Tom, “getting up” a bit; “I told you I don't understand poetry, but I do understand what's an infinitely better thing, and that's fine, generous, manly feeling; and if there's a human being in the world incapable of wronging another in his mind or heart, or readier to help his fellow-man, it is Edward O'Connor: so say no more, James, if you please.”
Tom had scarcely uttered the last word, when the key was turned in the door.
“Here's that infernal bailiff again!” said Tom, whose irritability, increased by Reddy's paltry egotism and injustice, was at its boiling-pitch once more. He planted himself firmly in his chair, and putting on his fiercest frown, was determined to confront Mister Goggins with an aspect that should astonish him.
The door opened, and Mister Goggins made his appearance, presenting to the gentlemen in the room the hinder portion of his person, which made several indications of courtesy performed by the other half of his body, while he uttered the words, “Don't be astonished, gentlemen; you'll be used to it by-and-by.” And with these words he kept backing towards Tom, making these nether demonstrations of civility, till Tom could plainly see the seams in the back of Mr. Goggins's pantaloons.
Tom thought this was some new touch of the “free-and-easy” on Mister Goggins's part, and, losing all command of himself, he jumped from his chair, and with a vigorous kick gave Mister Goggins such a lively impression of his desire that he should leave the room, that Mister Goggins went head foremost down the stairs, pitching his whole weight upon Dick Dawson and Edward O'Connor, who were ascending the dark stairs, and to whom all his bows had been addressed. Overwhelmed with astonishment and twelve stone of bailiff, they were thrown back into the hall, and an immense uproar in the passage ensued.
Edward and Dick were near coming in for some hard usage from Goggins, conceiving it might be a preconcerted attempt on the part of his prisoners and their newly arrived friends to achieve a rescue; and while he was rolling about on the ground, he roared to his evil-visaged janitor to look to the door first, and keep him from being “murthered” after.
Fortunately no evil consequences ensued, until matters could be explained in the hall, and Edward and Dick were introduced to the upper room, from which Goggins had been so suddenly ejected.