“Where is it, you impudent knave?  I see no note—­no answer.”

“Troth, sir, I am afeared many a time you were ornamented with the dunce’s cap in your school-days, and well, I’ll be bound, you became it.  Don’t I say the answer’s before you, there?”

“There is nothing here, you scoundrel, but a deal box.”

“Eight, sir; and a deal of intelligence can it give you, if you have the sense to find it out.  Now, listen, sir.  So long as you live, ever and always examine both sides of every subject that comes before you, even if it was an ould deal box.”

His master took the hint, and instantly turning the box, read to his astonishment, Mrs. Norton, Summerfield pottage, Wicklow, and then looked at Dandy for an explanation.  The latter nodded with his usual easy confidence, and proceeded, “It’s all right, sir—­she was in France—­own maid to Lady Cullamore—­came home and got married—­first to a Mr. Norton, and next to a person named Mainwarin’:  and there she is, the true Mrs. Norton, safe and sound for you, in Summerfield Cottage, under the name of Mrs. Mainwarin’.”

“Dandy,” said his master, starting to his feet, “I forgive you a thousand times.  Throw that letter in the post-office.  You shall have the money, Dandy, more, perhaps, than I promised, provided this is the lady; but I cannot doubt it.  I am now going to Mr. Birney; but, stay, let us be certain.  How did you become acquainted with these circumstances?”

Dandy gave him his authority; after which his master put on his hat, and was about proceeding out, when the former exclaimed, “Hello-sir, where are you goin’?”

“To see Birney, I have already told you.”

“Come, come,” replied his man, “take your time—­be steady, now—­be cool—­and listen to what your friend has to say to you.”

“Don’t trifle with me now, Dandy; I really can’t bear it.”

“Faith, but you must, though.  There’s one act I patronized you in; now, how do you know, as I’m actin’ the great man, but I can pathronize you in another?”

“How is that?  For heaven’s sake, don’t trifle with me; every day, every hour, every moment, is precious, and may involve the happiness of—­”

“I see, sir,” replied this extraordinary valet, with an intelligent nod, “but, still, fair and aisy goes far in a day.  There’s no danger of her, you know—­don’t be unaisy.  Fenton, sir—­ehem—­Fenton, I say—­Fenton and fifty I say.”

“Fenton and a hundred, Dandy, if there’s an available trace of him.”

“I don’t know what you call an available trace,” replied Dandy, “but I can send you to a lady who knows where he is, and where you can find him.”

The stranger returned from the door, and sitting down again covered his face with his hands, as if to collect himself; at length he said, “This is most extraordinary; tell me all about it.”

Dandy related that with which the reader is already acquainted, and did so with such an air of comic gravity and pompous superiority, that his master, now in the best possible spirits, was exceedingly amused.