Andy distinguished himself right at the beginning of the dinner.  One of the guests asked him for soda-water.

“Would you like it hot or cold, sir?” he said.

“Never mind,” replied the guest, with a laugh.  But Andy was anxious to please, and the squire’s butler met him hurrying to the kitchen, bewildered, but still resolute.

“One of the gintlemen wants some soap and wather with his wine,” exclaimed Andy.  “Shall I give it hot or cold?”

The distracted and irate butler took Andy to the sideboard and pushed a small soda into his hand, saying, “Cut the cord, you fool!” Andy took it gingerly, and holding it over the table, carried out the order.  Bang I went the bottle, and the cork, after knocking out two of the lights, struck the squire in the eye, while the hostess had a cold bath down her back.  Poor Andy, frightened by the soda-water jumping out of the bottle, kept holding it out at arm’s-length, exclaiming at every fizz, “Ow, ow, ow!”

“Send that fellow out of the room,” said the squire to the butler, “and bring in the champagne.”

In staggered Andy with the tub.

“Hand it round the table,” said the squire.

Andy tried to lift up the tub “to hand it round the table,” but finding he could not, he whispered, “I can’t get it up, sir!”

“Draw it then,” murmured his master, thinking that Andy meant he had got a bottle which was not effervescent enough to expel its own cork.

“Here it is,” said Andy, pulling the tub up to the squire’s chair.

“What do you mean, you stupid rascal?” exclaimed the squire, staring at the strange stuff before him.  “There’s not a single bottle there!”

“To be sure there’s no bottle there, sir,” said Andy.  “I’ve poured every dhrop of wine in the ice, as you towld me, sir.  If you put your hand down into it, you’ll feel it.”

A wild roar of laughter uprose from the listening guests.  Happily they were now too merry to be upset by the mishap, and it was generally voted that the joke was worth twice as much as the wine.  Handy Andy was, however, expelled from the dining-room in disgrace, and for days kept out of his master’s way, and the servants for months would call him by no other name but “Suds.”

II.—­O’Grady Gets a Blister

Mr. Egan was a kind-hearted man, and, instead of dismissing Andy, he kept him on for out-door work.  Our hero at once distinguished himself in his new walk of life.

“Ride into the town and see if there is a letter for me,” said the squire.

“I want a letther, if you plaze!” shouted Andy, rushing into the post-office.

“Who do you want it for?” asked the postmaster.

“What consarn is that o’ yours?” exclaimed Andy.

Happily, a man who knew Andy looked in for a letter, paid the postage of fourpence on it, and then settled the dispute between Andy and the postmaster by mentioning Mr. Egan’s name.