But, next minute, in afther thim stepped a sthrange gintleman none of us knew,
In a terrible takin’, an’ pantin’ as if ’twas a bellers he blew;
Wid a yallerish slip in his hand o’ the sort they’ve for messages tuk
Off the tiligrumph wires, an’ he ups to where Quality stared at him, sthruck
Of a heap like; and somethin’ he sez, that I couldn’t exactually hear,
But a somethin’ the others weren’t wishful Miss Honor should guess, that was clear,
For they all wint hush-hushin’; however, I’m thinkin’ she heard what he said,
And I saw her take hold o’ the paper, an’ whatever was in it she read.