Handy Andy, Volume One | Page 5

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.
Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintleman----"
"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.
"I beg your pardon, sir; but what's this you axed me for?"
"Soda-water."
"What, sir?"
"Soda-water: but, perhaps you have not any."
"Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir! Would you like it hot, sir?"
The gentleman laughed, and supposing the new fashion was not understood in the present company said, "Never mind."
But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied, and again applied to Mr. Morgan.
"Sir!" said he.
"Bad luck to you!--can't you let me alone?"
"There's a gentleman wants some soap and wather."
"Some what?"
"Soap and wather, sir."
"Divil sweep you!--Soda-wather you mane. You'll get it under the side-board."
"Is it in the can, sir?"
"The curse o' Crum'll on you! in the bottles."
"Is this it, sir?" said Andy producing a bottle of ale.
"No, bad cess to you!--the little bottles."
"Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?"
"I wish you wor in the bottom o' the say!" said Mr. Morgan, who was fuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face with a napkin, as he was hurrying to all quarters of the room, or, as Andy said, in praising his activity, that he was "like bad luck--everywhere."
"There they are!" said Mr. Morgan at last.
"Oh, them bottles that won't stand," said Andy; "sure them's what I said, with no bottoms to them. How'll I open it?--it's tied down."
"Cut the cord, you fool!"
Andy did as he was desired; and he happened at the time to hold the bottle of soda-water on a level with the candles that shed light over the festive board from a large silver branch, and the moment he made the incision, bang went the bottle of soda, knocking out two of the lights with the projected cork, which, performing its parabola the length of the room, struck the squire himself in the eye at the foot of the table: while the hostess at the head had a cold bath down her back. Andy, when he saw the soda-water jumping out of the bottle, held it from him at arm's length; every fizz it made, exclaiming, "Ow!--ow!--ow!" and, at last, when the bottle was empty, he roared out, "Oh, Lord!--it's all gone!"
Great was the commotion;--few could resist laughter except the ladies, who all looked at their gowns, not liking the mixture of satin and soda-water. The extinguished candles were relighted--the squire got his eye open again--and the next time he perceived the butler sufficiently near to speak to him, he said in a low and hurried tone of deep anger, while he knit his brow, "Send that fellow out of the room!" but, within the same