“Not at all; it was his lordship. ‘Crotty,’ says he—”
“Oh!” whispered my friend the major, “that’s conclusive.—All’s right when Peter uses the present personal.”
“Ay! ‘Crotty,’ says he,”—observed another, “But you have had a long ride; so before you begin a longer story, take the cobwebs from your throat.”
Again the tin cup was replenished—once more Peter Crotty refreshed himself; and then to a very attentive auditory he commenced the detail of a recent interview with the “great captain.”
“Well, you see, I only got the returns from the orderly room at twelve; and as I had ten miles to ride, off the mule and myself jogged immediately. Nothing particular occurred on the road, barrin’ I met Soames and Hamilton, and—
“Oh, d—n Soames and Hamilton!” exclaimed two or three voices together.
“Well, we had a drop of wine, and on I pushed without delay,—except half an hour with the Eighty-eighth; and we had a sort of a lunch of an over-driven bullock, the rump-steak,—by-the-by, it was cut off the fore-part of the shoulder, and as hard as the divil’s horn.—We had a throw of rum-and-water afterwards—”
“For one, read three,” observed another of the audience.
“Well, I reached Frenada—rode up to the door—gave my mule to an orderly—stept into the ante-room, and handed in the returns—”
“And, as the evening was wet, I suppose they allowed you to sit down,” said Captain Philbin.