“How far is it?”
“Well, now, you might coax it into four mile, but, be the powers! it’ll fight hard for five.”
I could not refrain from laughing at this peculiar form of expression, although there was anything but mirth in my present position. To be late for dinner would be a high crime and misdemeanor, and nothing short of lèse majesté, even were I to accept the porter’s ultimatum and walk. I could scarcely reach the Castle in anything like time.
“Did they expect you, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Troth, thin, they might have sint a yoke for ye. They always does for the quollity.”
This was not complimentary, but, like many a speech of a similar nature, it contained a great deal of truth in it. Could Sir Geoffry have forgotten all about his invitation? It had been given hurriedly as the whist-table was breaking up. He had had his share of wine, if revoking twice might be taken as an index. Yes, the following morning had erased me from the tablets of his memory. What an ass to come all this way to be instructed by a common fellow in a corduroy suit. Served me right! I ought to have known better.
“What time does the next train go up to Dublin, my man?” I asked.
“What time?” he ejaculated.
“Yes, yes, what time?”