"John has received a severe hurt, my dear. In packing some bottles, one of them broke, and a piece of it has cut his wrist. I have sent him to the apothecary's to get it dressed."
"Mercy on us! I hope he's not seriously injured. He won't be obliged to stay at home surely?"
"I am afraid he must, my dear."
"If he does, every thing will go wrong, he is such a careful creature, and so completely up to every thing on a sod party, and has every thing so orderly and regular, and all without fuss or hurry. Oh, dear! we shall be sadly off without him."
Mr Sharpe was announced, and a slight, small, dapper little personage made his appearance. A physiognomist of the very least discernment must at once have pronounced him to be a satirical, irritable, genuine lover of mischief, for mischief's sake—mirthful after his own fashion, and as merry as a grig upon a gridiron, when every face about him should be drawn to a half yard in length by some unforeseen annoyance, or petty disaster. He rubbed his hands, congratulating the ladies on the fineness of the day. "Heavenly morning—fine road—Bay of Dublin will be seen to such advantage—sea so smooth—coast of Wicklow splendid—Killiney will look so bold"—talk—talk—talk; he stunned every person with his extraordinary volubility.
Mr O'Brien's servant entered. "Please, ma'am, Mrs Molloy is coming." Scarcely was the message delivered when the lady made her appearance.
"Oh, my dear Mrs Harvey, I hope I hav'nt kept you waiting long. I totally forgot that this was the day appointed for your party, until Sparks reminded me of it by calling me up."
"Make no apologies, my dear madam; we havn't waited at all. Mr Sharpe has but just arrived, and our number is now complete. Have you every thing packed?"
"Packed! Why, do you think we'll have rain?—had I better get my cloak and umbrella? But, sure, I can go in your carriage, and as I shan't be exposed on an outside car, I won't want them."
"My dear Mrs Molloy, it is the beef I allude to. Is it packed?"