Tracle had a puncheon
for him.
At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as a
grasshopper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
Barronitt, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger git
the upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter and
kipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther a
while what did he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, saying
he wud give me the feshionable inthroduction to her leddyship.
"Is it there ye are?" said I thin to mesilf, "and it's thrue for
you, Pathrick, that ye're the fortunittest mortal in life. We'll
soon see now whither it's your swate silf, or whither it's little
Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in
the love wid."
Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may well
say it was an illigant place; so it was. There was a carpet all over
the floor, and in one corner there was a forty-pinny and a Jew's
harp and the divil knows what ilse, and in another corner was a
sofy, the beautifullest thing in all natur, and sitting on the sofy,
sure enough, there was the swate little angel, Misthress Tracle.
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