"A man wants ter see ye," she announced, shortly, her hand on the knob.
"Oh, I'm in no shape for play to-night; go back and tell him so."
"Sure, an' it's aisy 'nough ter see thet wid half an eye. But this un
isn't thet koind of a man, an' he's so moighty perlite about it Oi jist
cud n't sind the loikes of him away. It's 'Missus Guffy, me dear
madam, wud ye be koind enough to convey me complimints to Misther
Robert Hampton, and requist him to grant me a few minutes of his toime
on an important matter?' Sure, an' what do ye think of thet?"
"Huh! one of those fellows who had these rooms?" and Hampton rose to
his feet with animation.
The landlady lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper.
"It's the Reverend Howard Wynkoop," she announced, impressively,
dwelling upon the name. "The Reverend Howard Wynkoop, the Prasbytarian
Missionary--wouldn't thet cork ye?"
It evidently did, for Mr. Hampton stared at her for fully a minute in
an amazement too profound for fit expression in words. Then he
swallowed something in his throat.
"Show the gentleman up," he said, shortly, and sat down to wait.
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