Part 2 (1/2)

”Good day, Billy,” he said, familiarly. He lifted his hat pointedly to the lady. ”'Ow's yerself Jinny?” he asked.

The lady and gentleman stared at him in utmost astonishment for a moment, then consternation seized them, and they made a dive for the vehicle.

Nickie followed to the door.

”So long, if yer mus' be goin', w.i.l.l.yum,” he said, pleasantly. ”So long, Jinny. How's the old man's fish business?”

”Drive on!” gasped the gentleman. He had the scared expression of one who had seen a spectre.

The liveried menial whipped up, and the carriage was swept away. Nickie returned to his heap, and for fully two minutes Stub McGuire, his employer, gazed at him in speechless, open-mouthed amazement.

”Well, of all the blarsted cheeks!” gasped McGuire, when speech came to him.

”Don't mention it,” said Nickie.

”Don't mention it!” yelled Stub. ”No, iv course not, but what price his nibs in the n.o.ble belltopper mentionin' it t' th' Johns, an' gettin' you seven days fer disgustin' behaviour?”

Nickie smiled inscrutably, and continued his work. When the carriage returned, he made an adroit movement, and courteously opened the door.

”'Low me, Jinny, my dear,” he said, offering his grimy hand.

The lady stepped down, and pa.s.sed him disdainfully. The gentleman brushed him aside.

”'Ope yeh 'ad er pleasant ride in yer cart, Billy?” said Nicholas.

He followed them to the gate, and called through the bars.

”Very sorry, Jinny, but I carn't haccept yer pressin' invitation ter dinner, havin' er previous engagement.”

He returned to his work again, smiling sweetly. He seemed to enjoy Stub McGuire's horror.

”'Ere, 'ere,” said McGuire, ”off this job you go if you don't know better than to insult people that way. You'll be gettin' me inter mischiff.”

”Not at all,” said Nickie, ”not at all. Surely a man may offer ordinary civilities to his friends. Bless my soul, you wouldn't have me cut old Billy in the streets, would you? If I didn't speak to Jinny she'd think I was angry with her, and cry her eyes out. She has a tender heart, poor girl. She is a sensitive soul, and craves for social distinction. She looks to me to secure them a footing in exclusive circles, Mr. McGuire.”

”I don't know what y're talkin' about,” Stub grumbled, ”but that's enough of it, see?”

Nickie took no notice of his employer's admonitions, however, and when a clergyman drove up in a buggy an hour later, our hero intercepted him at the gate.

”Good afternoon, sir,” he said. ”Would you mind tellin' w.i.l.l.yum inside there how Nickie sends him his compliments, and 'opes Jinny's quite well.”

”My good fellow, you must not be insolent,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the minister.

”They won't take it as hinsolence,” Nicholas explained. ”They've er very touchin' regard fer me. Tell them. I arsked after 'em, won't yer?”

Even Stub McGuire noticed that Nickie, whose speech was usually excellent, adopted the vulgar tongue in addressing the man he called Billy, or any of his friends or relations.

Next day, Nickie inveigled three children, who were playing on the lawn, and entertained them at the gate with frivolous conversation for nearly ten minutes, when the state of affairs was discovered by their dignified mamma, who sent a maid flying to the rescue. Nickie took off his hat to the maid.

”Tell w.i.l.l.yum,” he said, ”that bein' 'andy, I'll drop in ter lunch t'

day, but Jinny's not on no account t' put up a big spread fer me. I'll jist take what's goin'.”