"Misther Maguire," says the Pope, "it's very unproper ov you to spake
that way ov my housekeeper: I won't allow it, sir."
"Honour bright, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, laying his hand on
his heart.
"Oh, by this and by that, Misther Maguire," says the Pope, "I'll have
none of your insiniwations: I don't care who sees my whole household,"
says he; "I don't care if all the faymales undher my roof was paraded
down the High Street of Room," says he.
"Oh, it's plain to be seen how little you care who see's them," says his
Riv'rence. "You're afeared, now, if I was to see your housekeeper, that
I'd say she was too handsome."
"No, I'm not!" says the Pope; "I don't care who sees her," says he.
"Anthony," says he to the head butler, "bid Eliza throw her apron over
her head, and come up here." Wasn't that stout in the blessed man? Well,
my dear, up she came, stepping like a three-year-old, and blushing like
the brake o' day: for though her apron was thrown over her head as she
came forrid, till you could barely see the tip ov her chin--more be
token there was a lovely dimple in it, as I've been tould--yet she let
it shlip a bit to one side, by chance like, jist as she got fornenst the
fire, and if she wouldn't have given his Riv'rence a shot if he hadn't
been a priest, it's no matther.
"Now, my dear," says he, "you must take that skillet, and hould it over
the fire till the milk comes to a blood-hate; and the way you'll know
that will be by stirring it ons't or twice wid the little finger ov your
right hand, afore you put in the butther: not that I misdoubt," says he,
"but that the same finger's fairer nor the whitest milk that ever came
from the tit."
"None of your deludhering talk to the young woman, sir," says the Pope,
mighty stern. "Stir the posset as he bids you, Eliza, and then be off
wid yourself," says he.
"I beg your Holiness's pardon ten thousand times," says his Riv'rence;
"I'm sure I meant nothing onproper; I hope I'm uncapable ov any sich
dirilection of my duty," says he. "But, marciful Saver!" he cried out,
jumping up on a suddent, "look behind you, your Holiness--I'm blest but
the room's on fire!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account