the attention of the "masther."

"What's the meaning of that noise, ye vagabones?"

"Spake up, Mickey."

"Is it me?" "It is." "Not at all, by no means. Let Paddy do it, or Tim
Carroll; they're used to going out wid the car, and don't mind spaking to
the quality." "Take yourselves out o'that, or let me know what you want,
and be pretty quick about it, too."

The result of this order was the appearance of Tim Carroll in the centre
of the room--a dig between the shoulders, and vigorously-applied kick
behind, hastening him into that somewhat uneasy situation, with a degree
of expedition perfectly marvellous.

"Spake out, what is it?" "Ahem!" commenced Tim; "you see, sir (_aside_),
I'll be even wid you for that kick, you thief of the world--you see, Paddy
(bad manners to him) and the rest o' the boys, was thinking that, owing to
the change o' climate, Master Richard--that is, his new riverence--has
gone through by rason of laving England and comin' here--and mighty could,
no doubt, he was on the journey--be praised he's safe--the boy, sir, was
thinkin', masther dear, it was nothing but their duty, and what was due to
the family, to ax your honour's opinion about their takin' the smallest
taste of whiskey in life, jist to be drinking his riverence's Masther
Richard's health, and"--"Success to him!" shouted the chorus at the door.
"That's it!" said the masther. "And nothing but it!" responded the chorus.
"Nelly, my jewel! take the kays and give them anything in dacency!"
"Hurrah! smiling good luck to you, for ever and afther!" "That'll do,
boys! but stay: it's Terence Conway's wedding night--it's a good tenant