Mrs. Burke,
breakfast--breakfast, madam, as you love Hycy, the accomplished." So
saying, Hycy the accomplished proceeded to the parlor we have described,
followed by his maternal relative, as he often called his mother.
"Well, upon my word and honor, mother," said the aforesaid Hycy, who
knew and played upon his mother's weak points, "it is a sad thing to see
such a woman as you are, married to a man who has neither the spirit nor
feelings of a gentleman--my word and honor it is."
"I feel that, Hycy, but there's no help for spilt milk; we must only
make the best of a bad bargain. Are you coming to your breakfast," she
shouted, calling to honest Jemmy, who still sat on the hob ruminating
with a kind of placid vexation over his son's extravagance--"your tay's
filled out!"
"There let it," he replied, "I'll have none of your plash to-day; I tuck
my skinful of good stiff stirabout that's worth a shipload of it. Drink
it yourselves--I'm no gintleman."
"Arrah, when did you find that out, Misther Burke?" she shouted back
again.
"To his friends and acquaintances it is anything but a recent disco
very," added Hycy; and each complimented the observation of the other
with a hearty laugh, during which the object of it went out to the
fields to join the men.
"I'm afraid it's no go, mother," proceeded the son, when breakfast was
finished--"he won't stand it.
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