"'Hallo! House! Whoop!'
"'What's the matther, my good man?' sez a sarvant, answerin' the dure.
"'Matther?' sez Tim. 'Plinty's the matther. Here's a letther for Misther O'Brien, wid the respicts of the owner.'
"'Yer name, sir, if ye pl'ase,' sez the man.
"'Tell him Misther Sullivan sint it,' sez Tim.
"'Oh!' sez the man, makin' a low bow. 'Obleege me by walkin' in; ye're expicted.'
"An', wid that, he marches on afore, Tim followin' afther, an' flings open the dure of a grand room all blazin' wid light, an' sings out—
"'Misther Sullivan!'
"'Oh, murther!' sez Tim to hisself. ''Tis changed I am by that frizzlin' barbarian!'
"'Ah, my young fri'nd,' sez Misther O'Brien, takin' him by the hand, ''tis pl'ased I am to see ye the day! Let me presint ye to my daughther. Norah, mavourneen, this is Misther Maurice Sullivan.'