’Well, ’tis, let me see. Some wild
young rogue, with a plenty of money, I warrant, if
I could only think of him—come, don’t
keep me all day—who the plague is he, Toole?’
urged the young lady, testily.
‘Dan Loftus,’ answered Toole, ‘ha,
ha, ha, ha!’
’Dan Loftus!—the grand tour—why,
where’s the world running to? Oh, ho, ho,
ho, hoo! what a macaroni!’ and they laughed heartily
over it, and called him ‘travelled monkey,’
and I know not what else.
’Why, I thought Dr. Walsingham designed him
for his curate; but what in the wide world brings
Dan Loftus to foreign parts—“To dance
and sing for the Spanish King, and to sing and dance
for the Queen of France?"’
’Hey! Dan’s got a good place, I can
tell you—travelling tutor to the hopeful
young lord that is to be—Devereux’s
cousin. By all the Graces, Ma’am, ’tis
the blind leading the blind. I don’t know
which of the two is craziest. Hey, diddle-diddle—by
Jupiter, such a pair—the dish ran away
with the spoon; but Dan’s a good creature, and
we’ll—we’ll miss him.
I like Dan, and he loves the rector—I like
him for that; where there’s gratitude and fidelity,
Miss Mag, there’s no lack of other virtues,
I warrant you—and the good doctor has been
a wonderful loving friend to poor Dan, and God bless
him for it, say I, and amen.’
‘And amen with all my heart,’ said Miss
Mag, gaily; ’’tis an innocent creature—poor
Dan; though he’d be none the worse of a little
more lace to his hat, and a little less Latin in his
head. But see here, doctor, here’s my poor
old goose of a mother (and she kissed her cheek) as
sick as a cat in a tub.’
And she whispered something in Toole’s wig,
and they both laughed uproariously.
‘I would not take five guineas and tell you
what she says,’ cried Toole.
‘Don’t mind the old blackguard, mother
dear!’ screamed Magnolia, dealing AEsculapius
a lusty slap on the back; and the cook at that moment
knocking at the door, called off the young lady to
the larder, who cried over her shoulder as she lingered
a moment at the door—’Now, send her
something, Toole, for my sake, to do her poor heart
good. Do you mind—for faith and troth
the dear old soul is sick and sad; and I won’t
let that brute, Sturk, though he does wear our uniform,
next or near her.’
’Well, ’tisn’t for me to say, eh?—and
now she’s gone,—just let me try.’
And he took her pulse.
CONCERNING A CERTAIN WOMAN IN BLACK.
And Toole, holding her stout wrist, felt her pulse
and said—’Hem—I see—and—’
And so he ran on with half-a-dozen questions, and
at the end of his catechism said, bluntly enough—
’I tell you what it is, Mrs. Mack, you have
something on your mind, my dear Madam, and till it’s
off, you’ll never be better.’
Poor Mrs. Mack opened her eyes, and made a gesture
of amazed disclaimer, with her hands palm upwards.
It was all affectation.
