"Maybe yir honor wouldn't think half-a-crown too much? said he diffidently.
"Half-a-crown!" exclaimed I, amazed at the modesty of his demand: "here are ten shillings; and, if you be quick in your errand, I will give you something extra on your return."
"Musha, an' long life to yir honor!" said Darby, scraping the carpet again; "may the grass never grow on the pathway to yir dwellin', nor a baste or Christian ever die belongin' t' ye, barrin' it's for the use of the kitchen!"
"Well, now prepare for the road," said I impatiently, "and be off at once."
"An' that I will, sir, in the twinklin' of a bedstead; only, you see, I've just got to run up to Tim Fallon the barber's to take the stubble off of my chin. Tim—(you know Tim Fallon, yir honor.)—Tim won't keep me long, anyhow, for it's late in the day, and his tongue must be dry by this; but if ye wud hear him of a mornin, oh! it's a trate, for Tim was once a play-acthur afore he grew a barber, an' by that same a good barber he is. Did he ever lather yir honor?"—I made no reply. "After that," continued Darby, "I'll just step home and put on my Sunday clothes, and then won't I be as fresh as a two-year ould to do yir honor's biddin'!"
"Well, well, lose no time," said I impatiently.
"Sorrow a minute," said Darby: "I'll be there and back agin in the shoot of a wishin' star. Maybe yir honor knows what a wishin' star is?"—I shook my head. "Well, then," continued Darby, "yir honor, no doubt, has been out o'doors of a fine starlight night?"—I nodded assent. "Well then, agin, I'll tell ye what a wishin' star is. Did ye ever sit yir heart upon havin' of anything sir?" "Yes," said I morosely.—"Might I be so bould as to ax in regard to what, sir?" inquired Darby.—"Why, in regard, as you call it, to the letter I have given you just now," replied I; "I wish to have it delivered as quickly as possible."
"Oh! that bein' the case, sir," said Darby somewhat disconcerted, "I'm off at once."—"At once be it, then," said I, opening the door for him.—"I've only, then, to give the letther, sir," said he lingeringly, "to the gentleman at the clargy's? But ye didn't tell me whether it was the priest or the parson he's stoppin' with."—"The parson," said I, with all the patience I could command.—"Oh, very well, sir. God take care of ye till I come back!" So saying, he shut the door after him; but, before I could seat myself in my chair, he opened it again, inquiring "If he left his hat in the drawin'-room?" The only answer I made was by taking up the caubeen, which lay on the carpet, and flinging it in his face, out of all patience. "Thank yir honor," said Darby, and retired again, as I hoped, to proceed on his journey, But, alas! I was mistaken. Five minutes had scarcely elapsed when he presented himself once more, with a request that I might allow him to take Squib, my pointer dog, with him as a companion. "The road's so drary," said he, "by one's self, you know, yir honour."—"Well, take him, in God's name," said I, hastily shutting the door after him, and glad to be rid of him at any concession.
I again resumed my seat, and opened the volume I had been reading; but I had not got through more than twenty or thirty pages of marvellous matter, when I thought I heard Darby's voice in the yard. On going to the window, I found that it was indeed he, and "as spruce as a Scotch fir," to use one of his own expressions.
"Not gone yet!" exclaimed I, furiously throwing up the sash. But it was of no use, for he replied with the most perfect coolness, "Oh, yes, sir, I was gone half an hour ago; only, you see, I've come back for the clieve that's to carry Squib to the place where he'll find divarsion in runnin' about in the pleasure-grounds hard by Squire Markhim's inclosure; 'twould kill the baste (God pard'n me for callin' him so, for he's more like a Christian,) to walk him so far: and maybe I'll not bring ye home a brace or two of birds that he'll point at without seein', and a blue peter or so, if yir honor wud only just give me a charge or two of powder and shot."