“I will, miss, an’ the tay-thray too.”
“And above all things keep sober, Fogarty.”
“He’s a teetotaler,” chimed in Mrs. Casey. “Aren’t ye a teetotaler, Luke?”
There was a comical expression upon Luke’s face as he stoutly replied: “I am, ma’am; but I’m not a bigoted wan.”
At about four o’clock a note arrived from Mrs. Bowdler.
“Oh! my gracious, I hope there’s no disappointment,” cried Matilda, turning very pale, while dire apprehension was written in the pallid features of her mamma.
“I hope not; that would be awful, me pet.”
The note ran thus:
“292 Stephen’s Green, 3.30 o’clock.
“My Dearest Miss Casey: Our dear friend Major Beamish and his charming daughter, nearly related to the Beamishes of Cork, have just written to say that they will dine with us to-day. I must, therefore, with the MOST painful reluctance, ask of you to allow us to cancel our engagement to you. I cannot tell you how sincerely this grieves me, but the B.’s, though very old friends, are people of that haute distinction that one cannot treat as one possibly could wish.