and befrilled serving-man standing haughty behind every chair.
The atin’ and dhrinkin’ would have begun at once—in throth there was already a bit of biled beef on Darby’s plate—only that he spied a little silver bell beside him. Sure, ’twas one like those the quality keep to ring whin they want more hot wather for their punch, but it puzzled the knowledgeable man, and ’twas the beginning of his misfortune.
“I wondher,” he thought, “if ’tis here for the same raison as the bell is at the Curragh races—do they ring this one so that all at the table will start ating and dhrinking fair, an’ no one will have the advantage, or is it,” he says to himself agin, “to ring whin the head of the house thinks everyone has had enough. Haven’t the quality quare ways! I’ll be a long time learning them,” he says.
He sat silent and puzzling an’ staring at the biled beef on his plate, afeard to start in without ringing the bell, an’ dhreadin’ to risk ringing it. The grand sarvants towered cowldly on every side, their chins tilted, but they kep’ throwing over their chowlders glances so scornful and haughty that Darby shivered at the thought of showing any uncultivaytion.
