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Read Ebook: Handy Andy: A Tale of Irish Life. Volume 1 by Lover Samuel
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Ebook has 2083 lines and 94882 words, and 42 pages
"I suppose the English of all this is, you want me to take him?" said the squire.
"Throth, an' your honour, that's just it--if your honour would be plazed."
"What can he do?"
"Anything, your honour."
"Oh, no, sir. Everything, I mane, that you would desire him to do."
To every one of these assurances on his mother's part Andy made a bow and a scrape.
"Can he take care of horses?"
"The best of care, sir," said the mother; while the miller who was standing behind the squire, waiting for orders, made a grimace at Andy, who was obliged to cram his face into his hat to hide the laugh, which he could hardly smother from being heard, as well as seen.
"Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and we'll see what we can do."
"That'll do--there, now go."
"Will you go?"
"And may the angels make your honour's bed this blessed night, I pray."
"If you don't go, your son shan't come."
Judy and her hopeful boy turned to the right about in double-quick time, and hurried down the avenue.
"Who's that?" said the squire, who had just risen, and did not know but it might be one of the women servants.
"It's me, sir."
"Oh--Andy! Come in."
"Here's the hot water, sir," said Andy, bearing an enormous tin can.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Andy, retreating. In two minutes more Andy came back, and, tapping at the door, put in his head cautiously, and said, "The maids in the kitchen, your honour, say's there's not so much hot water ready."
"Did I not see it a moment since in your hand?"
"Yes, sir; but that's not nigh the full o' the stable-bucket."
"Go along, you stupid thief! and get me some hot water directly."
"Will the can do, sir?"
"Ay, anything, so you make haste."
Off posted Andy, and back he came with the can.
"Where'll I put it sir?"
"Throw this out," said the squire, handing Andy a jug containing some cold water, meaning the jug to be replenished with the hot.
Andy took the jug, and the window of the room being open, he very deliberately threw the jug out. The squire stared with wonder, and at last said--
"What did you do that for?"
"Go out of this, you thick-headed villain!" said the squire, throwing his boots at Andy's head, along with some very neat curses. Andy retreated, and thought himself a very ill-used person.
Though Andy's regular business was "whipper-in," yet he was liable to be called on for the performance of various other duties: he sometimes attended at table when the number of guests required that all the subs should be put in requisition, or rode on some distant errand for the "mistress," or drove out the nurse and children on the jaunting-car; and many were the mistakes, delays, or accidents, arising from Handy Andy's interference in such matters;--but as they were seldom serious, and generally laughable, they never cost him the loss of his place, or the squire's favour, who rather enjoyed Andy's blunders.
The first time Andy was admitted into the mysteries of the dining-room, great was his wonder. The butler took him in to give him some previous instructions, and Andy was so lost in admiration at the sight of the assembled glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide open, and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the head man had been dinning his instructions into him for some time, he said he might go, until his attendance was required. But Andy moved not; he stood with his eyes fixed by a sort of fascination on some object that seemed to rivet them with the same unaccountable influence which the rattlesnake exercises over its victim.
"What are you looking at?" said the butler.
"Them things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some silver forks.
"Is it the forks?" said the butler.
"Oh, no, sir! I know what forks is very well; but I never seen them things afore."
"What things do you mean?"
"These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the silver forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in utter astonishment, while the butler grinned at his ignorance, and enjoyed his own superior knowledge.
"Well!" said Andy, after a long pause, "the devil be from me if ever I seen a silver spoon split that way before!"
The butler gave a horse laugh, and made a standing joke of Andy's split spoon; but time and experience made Andy less impressed with wonder at the show of plate and glass, and the split spoons became familiar as "household words" to him; yet still there were things in the duties of table attendance beyond Andy's comprehension--he used to hand cold plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, &c. But "one day," as Zanga says--"one day" he was thrown off his centre in a remarkable degree by a bottle of soda-water.
It was when that combustible was first introduced into Ireland as a dinner beverage that the occurrence took place, and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water.
"Sir?" said Andy.
"Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people are apt to name their wants at a dinner-table.
"Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morgan.
Andy manoeuvred round him a little longer, and again essayed to be heard.
"Mr. Morgan!"
"Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be? Can't you do it yourself?"
"I dunna what he wants."
"Well, go ax him," said Mr. Morgan.
Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman's chair, with, "I beg your pardon, sir."
"Well!" said the gentleman.
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