"'Deed then it is, Morgan," said Mick. "That was fine writing when the docthor wrote in the Phaynix, and he and Condy Roony blazed away at each other day after day."
"And with powder and shot, too, as well as paper," says Morgan. "Faith, the docthor was out twice, and Condy Roony winged his man."
"They are talking about Doctor Boyne and Captain Shandon," Warrington said, "who are the two Irish controversialists of the 'Dawn' and the 'Day,' Dr. Boyne being the Protestant champion, and Captain Shandon the liberal orator. They are the best friends in the world, I believe, in spite of their newspaper controversies; and though they cry out against the English for abusing their country, by Jove they abuse it themselves more in a single article than we should take the pains to do in a dozen volumes. How are you, Doolan?"
"Your servant, Mr. Warrington—Mr. Pendennis, I am delighted to have the honor of seeing ye again. The night's journey on the top of the Alacrity was one of the most agreeable I ever enjoyed in my life, and it was your liveliness and urbanity that made the trip so charming. I have often thought over that happy night, sir, and talked over it to Mrs. Doolan. I have seen your elegant young friend, Mr. Foker, too, here, sir, not unfrequently. He is an occasional frequenter of this hostelry, and a right good one it is. Mr. Pendennis, when I saw you I was on the Tom and Jerry Weekly Paper; I have now the honor to be sub-editor of the Dawn, one of the best written papers of the empire"—and he bowed very slightly to Mr. Warrington. His speech was unctuous and measured, his courtesy oriental, his tone, when talking with the two Englishmen, quite different to that with which he spoke to his comrade.
"Why the devil will the fellow compliment so?" growled Warrington, with a sneer which he hardly took the pains to suppress. "Psha—who comes here?—all Parnassus is abroad to-night: here's Archer. We shall have some fun. Well, Archer, House up?"
"Haven't been there. I have been," said Archer, with an air of mystery, "where I was wanted. Get me some supper, John—something substantial. I hate your grandees who give you nothing to eat. If it had been at Apsley House, it would have been quite different. The duke knows what I like, and says to the Groom of the Chambers, 'Martin, you will have some cold beef, not too much done, and a pint bottle of pale ale, and some brown sherry, ready in my study as usual: Archer is coming here this evening.' The duke doesn't eat supper himself, but he likes to see a man enjoy a hearty meal, and he knows that I dine early. A man can't live upon air, be hanged to him."
"Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Pendennis," Warrington said, with great gravity. "Pen, this is Mr. Archer, whom you have heard me talk about. You must know Pen's uncle, the major, Archer, you who know every body."
"Dined with him the day before yesterday at Gaunt House," Archer said. "We were four—the French embassador, Steyne, and we two commoners."
"Why, my uncle is in Scot—" Pen was going to break out, but Warrington pressed his foot under the table as a signal for him to be quiet.
"It was about the same business that I have been to the palace to-night," Archer went on simply, "and where I've been kept four hours, in an ante-room, with nothing but yesterday's Times, which I knew by heart, as I wrote three of the leading articles myself; and though the lord chamberlain came in four times, and once holding the royal teacup and saucer in his hand, he did not so much as say to me, 'Archer, will you have a cup of tea?'"