"Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir! Would you like it hot, sir."
The gentleman laughed, and, supposing the new fashion was not understood in the present company, said "Never mind."
But Andy was too anxious to please, to be so satisfied, and again applied to Mr. Morgan.
"Sir!" said he.—"Bad luck to you! can't you let me alone?"
"There's a gintleman wants some soap and wather."
"Some what?"—"Soap and wather, sir."
"Divil sweep you!—Soda-wather you mane. You'll get it under the sideboard."
"Is it in the can, sir?"—"The curse o' Crum'll on you—in the bottles."
"Is this it, sir?" said Andy, producing a bottle of ale.—"No, bad cess to you!—the little bottles."
"Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?"—"I wish you wor in the bottom o' the say!" said Mr. Morgan, who was fuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face with his napkin, as he was hurrying to all quarters of the room, or, as Andy said, in praising his activity, that he was "like bad luck,—everywhere."