Handy Andy, Volume One | Page 6

instant, resumed his former smile, that beamed on all around as if nothing had happened.
Andy was expelled the salle �� manger in disgrace, and for days kept out of the master's and mistress' way: in the meantime the butler made a good story of the thing in the servants' hall; and, when he held up Andy's ignorance to ridicule, by telling how he asked for "soap and water," Andy was given the name of "Suds," and was called by no other for months after.
But, though Andy's functions in the interior were suspended, his services in out-of-door affairs were occasionally put in requisition. But here his evil genius still haunted him, and he put his foot in a piece of business his master sent him upon one day, which was so simple as to defy almost the chance of Andy making any mistake about it; but Andy was very ingenious in his own particular line.
"Ride into the town and see if there's a letter for me," said the squire one day to our hero.
"Yes, sir."
"You know where to go?"
"To the town, sir."
"But do you know where to go in the town?"
"No, sir."
"And why don't you ask, you stupid thief?"
"Sure I'd find out, sir."
"Didn't I often tell you to ask what you're to do, when you don't know?"
"Yes, sir."
"And why don't you?"
"I don't like to be throublesome, sir."
"Confound you!" said the squire; though he could not help laughing at Andy's excuse for remaining in ignorance.
"Well," continued he, "go to the post-office. You know the post-office, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir, where they sell gunpowder."
"You're right for once," said the squire; for his Majesty's postmaster was the person who had the privilege of dealing in the aforesaid combustible. "Go then to the post-office, and ask for a letter for me. Remember--not gunpowder, but a letter."
"Yis, sir," said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and trotted away to the post-office. On arriving at the shop of the postmaster (for that person carried on a brisk trade in groceries, gimlets, broadcloth, and linen-drapery,) Andy presented himself at the counter, and said, "I want a letther, sir, if you plaze."
"Who do you want it for?" said the postmaster, in a tone which Andy considered an aggression upon the sacredness of private life: so Andy thought the coolest contempt he could throw upon the prying impertinence of the postmaster was to repeat his question.
"I want a letther, sir, if you plaze."
"And who do you want it for?" repeated the postmaster.
"What's that to you?" said Andy.
The postmaster, laughing at his simplicity, told him he could not tell what letter to give him unless he told him the direction.
"The directions I got was to get a letther here--that's the directions."
"Who gave you those directions?"
"The masther."
"And who's your master?"
"What consarn is that o' yours?"
"Why, you stupid rascal! if you don't tell me his name, how can I give you a letter?"
"You could give it if you liked: but you're fond of axin' impident questions, bekase you think I'm simple."
"Go along out o' this! Your master must be as great a goose as yourself, to send such a messenger."
"Bad luck to your impidence," said Andy; "is it Squire Egan you dar to say goose to?"
"Oh, Squire Egan's your master, then?"
"Yes, have you anything to say agin it?"
"Only that I never saw you before."
"Faith, then you'll never see me agin if I have my own consint."
"I won't give you any letter for the squire, unless I know you're his servant. Is there any one in the town knows you?"
"Plenty," said Andy, "it's not every one is as ignorant as you."
Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was known entered the house, who vouched to the postmaster that he might give Andy the squire's letter. "Have you one for me?"
"Yes, sir," said the postmaster, producing one--"fourpence."
The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, and left the shop with his letter.
"Here's a letter for the squire," said the postmaster; "you've to pay me elevenpence postage."
"What 'ud I pay elevenpence for?"
"For postage."
"To the devil wid you! Didn't I see you give Mr. Durfy a letther for fourpence this minit, and a bigger letther than this? and now you want me to pay elevenpence for this scrap of a thing. Do you think I'm a fool?"
"No: but I'm sure of it," said the postmaster.
"Well you're welkum to be sure, sure;--but don't be delayin' me now: here's fourpence for you, and gi' me the letther."
"Go along, you stupid thief!" said the postmaster, taking up the letter, and going to serve a customer with a mouse-trap.
While this person, and many others were served, Andy lounged up and down the shop, every now and then putting in his head in the middle of the customers, and saying, "Will you gi' me the letther?"
He waited for above half an hour, in