“Never mind! Tea was brought in by Mary Keefe, and it was just as all other teas have been and will be. Do not, however, confound it with the wafer-sliced and hot-watered abominations which are inflicted, perhaps justly, on the wretched individuals who are guilty of haunting soirées and conversaziones in this good and bad city of London. The tea was congou or souchong, or some other of these Chinese affairs, for anything I know to the contrary; for, having dined at the house, I was mixing my fifth tumbler when tea was brought in, and Mrs Macnamara begged me not to disturb myself; and she being a lady for whom I had a great respect, I complied with her desire; but there was a potato-cake, an inch thick and two feet in diameter, which Mrs Macnamara informed me in a whisper was made by Dosy after the hunt.
“‘Poor chicken,’ she said, ‘if she had the strength, she has the willingness; but she is so delicate. If you saw her handling the potatoes to-day.’
“‘Madam,’ said I, looking tender, and putting my hand on my heart, ‘I wish I was a potato!’
CHAPTER III.
HOW ENSIGN BRADY ASTONISHED THE NATIVES AT MISS
THEODOSIA MACNAMARA’S.
“I thought this was an uncommonly pathetic wish, after the manner of the Persian poet Hafiz, but it was scarcely out of my mouth, when Ensign Brady, taking a cup of tea from Miss Dosy’s hand, looking upon me with an air of infinite condescension, declared that I must be the happiest of men, as my wish was granted before it was made. I was preparing to answer, but Miss Dosy laughed so loud that I had not time, and my only resource was to swallow what I had just made. The ensign followed up his victory without mercy.
“‘Talking of potatoes, Miss Theodosia,’ said he, looking at me, ‘puts me in mind of truffles. Do you know this most exquisite cake of yours much resembles a gateau aux truffes? By Gad! how Colonel Thornton, Sir Harry Millicent, Lord Mortgageshire, and that desperate fellow, the Honourable and Reverend Dick Sellenger, and I, used to tuck in truffles when we were quartered in Paris. Mortgageshire—an uncommon droll fellow; I used to call his Lordship Morty—he called me Brad—we were on such terms; and we used to live together in the Rue de la Paix, that beautiful street close by the Place Vendôme, where there’s the pillar. You have been at Paris, Miss Macnamara?’ asked the ensign, filling his mouth with a half-pound bite of the potato-cake at the same moment.
“Dosy confessed that she had never travelled into any foreign parts except the kingdom of Kerry; and on the same question being repeated to me, I was obliged to admit that I was in a similar predicament. Brady was triumphant.
“‘It is a loss to any man,’ said he, ‘not to have been in Paris. I know that city well, and so I ought; but I did many naughty things there.’
“‘O fie!’ said Mrs Macnamara.