Free The House by the Church-Yard by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

and, laughing still, ran out to look at her magnolia, which, by way of reprisal, he henceforth, notwithstanding her entreaties, always called her 'Macnamara;' until, to her infinite delight, he came out with it, as it sometimes happens, at a wrong time, and asked old Mac—a large, mild man—then extant, Madame herself, nurse, infant Magnolia, and all, who had arrived at the castle, to walk out and see Lady Carrick–o'–Gunniol’s 'Macnamara,' and perceived not the slip, such is the force of habit, though the family stared, and Lady C. laughed in an uncalled–for–way, at a sudden recollection of a tumble she once had, when a child, over a flower–bed; and broke out repeatedly, to my lord’s chagrin and bewilderment, as they walked towards the exotic.
    When Toole ended his little family anecdote, which, you may be sure, he took care to render as palatable to Magnolia’s knight as possible, by not very scrupulous excisions and interpolations he wound all up, without allowing an instant for criticism or question, by saying briskly, though incoherently.
    'And so, what do you say, lieutenant, to a Welsh rabbit for supper?'
    The lieutenant nodded a stolid assent.
    'Will
you
have one, Nutter?' cried Toole.
    'No,' said Nutter.
    'And why not?' says Toole.
    'Why, I believe Tom Rooke’s song in praise of oysters,' answered Nutter, 'especially the verse—
'"The youth will ne’er live to scratch a gray head,
On a supper who goes of Welsh rabbit to bed."'
    How came it to pass that Nutter hardly opened his lips this evening—on which, as the men who knew him longest all remarked, he was unprecedentedly talkative—without instantaneously becoming the mark at which O’Flaherty directed his fiercest and most suspicious scowls? And now that I know the allusion which the pugnacious lieutenant apprehended, I cannot but admire the fatality with which, without the smallest design, a very serious misunderstanding was brought about.
    'As to
youths
living to scratch gray heads or not, Sir,' said the young officer, in most menacing tones; 'I don’t see what concern persons of your age can have in that. But I’ll take leave to tell you, Sir, that a gentleman, whether he be a "youth" as you
say
, or aged, as you
are
, who endayvours to make himself diverting at the expense of others, runs a murdhering good risk, Sir, of getting himself scratched where he’ll like it least.'
    Little Nutter, though grave and generally taciturn, had a spirit of his own, and no notion whatever of knocking under to a bully. It is true, he had not the faintest notion why he was singled out for the young gentleman’s impertinence; but neither did he mean to enquire. His mahogany features darkened for a moment to logwood, and his eyes showed their whites fiercely.
    'We are not accustomed, Sir, in this part of the world, to your Connaught notions of politeness; we meet here for social—a—a—sociality, Sir; and the long and the short of it is, young gentleman, if you don’t change your key, you’ll find two can play at that game—and—and, I tell you, Sir, there will be wigs on the green, Sir.'
    Here several voices interposed.
    'Silence, gentlemen, and let me speak, or I’ll assault him,' bellowed O’Flaherty, who, to do him justice, at this moment looked capable of anything. 'I believe, Sir,' he continued, addressing Nutter, who confronted him like a little game–cock, 'it is not usual for one gentleman who renders himself offensive to another to oblige him to proceed to the length of manually malthrating his person.'
    'Hey! eh?' said Nutter, drawing his mouth tight on one side with an ugly expression, and clenching his hands in his breeches pockets.
    'Manually malthrating his person, Sir,' repeated O’Flaherty, 'by striking, kicking, or whipping any part or mimber of his body; or offering a milder assault, such as a pull by the chin, or a finger–tap upon the nose. It is usual, Sir, for the purpose of avoiding ungentlemanlike noise, inconvenience,