It was when that combustible was first introduced into Ireland as a dinner beverage that the occurrence took place, and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentlemen applied for some soda-water.
"Sir?" said Andy.—"Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people are apt to name their wants at a dinner-table.
Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintleman——"—"Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morgan.
Andy manœuvred round him a little longer, and again essayed to be heard.
"Mr. Morgan!"—"Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be! Can't you do it yourself?"
"I dunna what he wants."—"Well, go and ax him," said Mr. Morgan.
Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman's chair, with "I beg your pardon sir."
"Well!" said the gentleman.
"I beg your pardon, sir; but what's this you ax'd me for?"—"Soda-water."
"What, sir?"—"Soda-water; but, perhaps, you have not any."