The Absentee by Maria Edgeworth Page A

kingdoms, Mordicai the Jew inclusive.'
    'Ah! that's the devil, that Mordicai,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'that's the
only man an earth I dread.'
    'Why, he is only a coachmaker, is not he!' said Lady Clonbrony: 'I can't
think how you can talk, my lord, of dreading such a low man. Tell him,
if he's troublesome, we won't bespeak any more carriages; and, I'm sure,
I wish you would not be so silly, my lord, to employ him any more, when
you know he disappointed me the last birthday about the landau, which I
have not got yet.'
    'Nonsense, my dear,'said Lord Clonbrony; 'you don't know what you are
talking of. Terry, I say, even a friendly execution is an ugly thing.'
    'Phoo! phoo!—an ugly thing! So is a fit of the gout—but one's all the
better for it after. 'Tis just a renewal of life, my lord, for which
one must pay a bit of a fine, you know. Take patience, and leave me
to manage all properly—you know I'm used to these things, Only you
recollect, if you please, how I managed my friend Lord —; it's bad to
be mentioning names—but Lord EVERYBODY-KNOWS-WHO—didn't I bring him
through cleverly, when there was that rascally attempt to seize
the family plate? I had notice, and what did I do, but broke open a
partition between that lord's house and my lodgings, which I had taken
next door; and so, when the sheriff's officers were searching below on
the ground floor, I just shoved the plate easy through to my bedchamber
at a moment's warning, and then bid the gentlemen walk in, for they
couldn't set a foot in my paradise, the devils! So they stood looking
at it through the wall, and cursing me and I holding both my sides with
laughter at their fallen faces.'
    Sir Terence and Lord Clonbrony laughed in concert.
    'This is a good story,' said Miss Nugent, smiling; 'but surely, Sir
Terence, such things are never done in real life?'
    'Done! ay, are they; and I could tell you a hundred better strokes, my
dear Miss Nugent.'
    'Grace!' cried Lady Clonbrony, 'do pray have the goodness to seal and
send these notes; for really,' whispered she, as her niece came to the
table,'I CAWNT STEA, I cawnt bear that man's VICE, his accent grows
horrider and horrider!'
    Her ladyship rose, and left the room.
    'Why, then,' continued Sir Terence, following up Miss Nugent to the
table, where she was sealing letters, 'I must tell you how I sarved that
same man on another occasion, and got the victory too.'
    No general officer could talk of his victories, or fight his battles
o'er again, with more complacency than Sir Terence O'Fay recounted his
CIVIL exploits.
    'Now I'll tell Miss Nugent. There was a footman in the family, not an
Irishman, but one of your powdered English scoundrels that ladies are so
fond of having hanging to the backs of their carriages; one Fleming he
was, that turned spy, and traitor, and informer, went privately and gave
notice to the creditors where the plate was hid in the thickness of the
chimney; but if he did, what happened! Why, I had my counter-spy, an
honest little Irish boy, in the creditor's shop, that I had secured with
a little douceur of usquebaugh; and he outwitted, as was natural, the
English lying valet, and gave us notice just in the nick, and I got
ready for their reception; and, Miss Nugent, I only wish you'd seen the
excellent sport we had, letting them follow the scent they got; and when
they were sure of their game, what did they find?—Ha! ha! ha!—dragged
out, after a world of labour, a heavy box of—a load of brickbats; not
an item of my friend's plate—that was all snug in the coal-hole, where
them dunces never thought of looking for it. Ha! ha! ha!'
    'But come, Terry,' cried Lord Clonbrony, 'I'll pull down your pride.
How finely, another time, your job of the false ceiling answered in the
hall. I've heard that story, and have been told how the sheriffs fellow
thrust his bayonet up through your false plaster, and down came
tumbling the family plate hey, Terry? That hit cost your friend, Lord
everybody-knows-who,