It was his helpmate's rule,
whenever she did not know to a certainty precisely what Irons was doing,
to take it for granted that he was about some mischief. Her lodger,
Captain Devereux, was her great resource on these occasions, and few
things pleased him better than a stormy visit from his hostess in this
temper. The young scapegrace would close his novel, and set down his
glass of sherry and water (it sometimes smelt very like brandy, I'm
afraid). To hear her rant, one would have supposed, who had not seen
him, that her lank-haired, grimly partner, was the prettiest youth in
the county of Dublin, and that all the comely lasses in Chapelizod and
the country round were sighing and setting caps at him; and Devereux,
who had a vein of satire, and loved even farce, enjoyed the heroics of
the fat old slut.
'Oh! what am I to do, captain, jewel?' she bounced into the room, with
flaming face and eyes swelled, and the end of her apron, with which she
had been swobbing them, in her hand, while she gesticulated, with her
right; 'there, he's off again to Island Bridge,--the owdacious sneak!
It's all that dirty hussy's doing.
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