“If he's the young man I mane,” continued Dandy, “he's not quite steady in the head sometimes.”
“If he were, he would not be in his present abode,” replied the lady.
“And pray, miss—beg pardon again,” said Dandy, with the best bow and scrape he could manage; “pray, miss, might I be so bould as to ask where that is?”
Mrs. Scarman looked at her mother. “Mamma,” said she, “but, bless me! what is the matter? you are in tears.”
“I will tell you by and by, my dear Maria,” replied her mother; “but you were going to ask me something—what was it?”
“This man,” replied her daughter, “wishes to know the abode of the person I was speaking about.”
“Pray, what is his motive? What is your motive, my good man, for asking such a question?”
“Bekaise, ma'am,” replied Dandy, “I happen to know a gentleman who has been for some time on the lookout for him, and wishes very much to find where he is. If it be the young man I spake of, he disappeared some three or four months ago from the town of Ballytrain.”
“Well,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, with her usual good-sense and sagacity, “as I know not what your motive for asking such a question is, I do not think this lady ought to answer it; but if the gentleman himself is anxious to know, let him see her; and upon giving satisfactory reasons for the interest he takes in him, he shall be informed of his present abode. You must rest satisfied with this. Go to the kitchen and say to the servant that I desired her to give you refreshment.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” replied Dandy; “faith, that's a lively message, anyhow, and one that I feel great pleasure in deliverin'. This Wicklow air's a regular cutler; it has sharpened my teeth all to pieces; and if the cook 'ithin shows me good feedin' I'll show her something in the shape of good atin'. I'm a regular man of talent at my victuals, ma'am, an' was often tould I might live to die an alderman yet, plaise God; many thanks agin, ma'am.” So saying, Dandy proceeded at a brisk pace to the kitchen.