You are now immediately opposite the door of the seminary, when half a dozen of those seated next it notice you.
“Oh, sir, here's a gintleman on a horse!—masther, sir, here's a-gintleman on a horse, wid boots and spurs on him, that's looking in at us.”
“Silence!” exclaims the master; “back from the door; boys, rehearse; every one of you, rehearse, I say, you Boeotians, till the gintleman goes past!”
“I want to go out, if you plase, sir.”
“No, you don't, Phelim.”
“I do, indeed, sir.”
“What!—is it after conthradictin' me you'd be? Don't you see the 'porter's' out, and you can't go.”
“Well, 'tis Mat Meehan has it, sir: and he's out this half-hour, sir; I can't stay in, sir—iplrfff—iphfff!”
“You want to be idling your time looking at the gintleman, Phelim.”
“No, indeed, sir—iphfff!”