Great Britain -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Love stories; Social classes -- Fiction
It was on a disagreeable, cold, sloppy, raw, winter evening--an
evening drizzling sometimes with rain, and sometimes with sleet--that
an elderly man was driven up to the door of the hotel on a one-horse
car--or jingle, as such conveniences were then called in the south of
Ireland. He seemed to know the house, for with his outside coat all
dripping as it was he went direct to the bar-window, and as Fanny
O'Dwyer opened the door he walked into that warm precinct. There he
encountered a gentleman, dressed one would say rather beyond the
merits of the establishment, who was taking his ease at full length
on Fanny's sofa, and drinking some hot compound which was to be seen
in a tumbler on the chimney-shelf just above his head. It was now six
o'clock in the evening, and the gentleman no doubt had dined.
"Well, Aby; here I am, as large as life, but as cold as death. Ugh;
what an affair that coach is! Fanny, my best of darlings, give me a
drop of something that's best for warming the cockles of an old man's
heart."
"A young wife then is the best thing in life to do that, Mr.
Mollett," said Fanny, sharply, preparing, however, at the same time
some mixture which might be taken more instantaneously.
"The governor's had enough of that receipt already," said the man
on the sofa; or rather the man now off the sofa, for he had slowly
arisen to shake hands with the new comer.
This latter person proceeded to divest himself of his dripping
greatcoat. "Here, Tom," said he, "bring your old Cyclops eye to bear
this way, will you. Go and hang that up in the kitchen; not too near
the fire now; and get me something to eat: none of your mutton chops;
but a beefsteak if there is such a thing in this benighted place.
Well, Aby, how goes on the war?"
It was clear that the elderly gentleman was quite at home in his
present quarters; for Tom, far from resenting such impertinence, as
he would immediately have done had it proceeded from an ordinary
Kanturk customer, declared "that he would do his honour's bidding av
there was such a thing as a beefsteak to be had anywhere's in the
city of Cork."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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