“’Low me, Jinny, my dear,” he said, offering his grimy hand.

The lady stepped down, and passed him disdainfully.  The gentleman brushed him aside.

“’Ope yeh ’ad er pleasant ride in yer cart, Billy?” said Nicholas.

He followed them to the gate, and called through the bars.

“Very sorry, Jinny, but I carn’t haccept yer pressin’ invitation ter dinner, havin’ er previous engagement.”

He returned to his work again, smiling sweetly.  He seemed to enjoy Stub McGuire’s horror.

“’Ere, ’ere,” said McGuire, “off this job you go if you don’t know better than to insult people that way.  You’ll be gettin’ me inter mischiff.”

“Not at all,” said Nickie, “not at all.  Surely a man may offer ordinary civilities to his friends.  Bless my soul, you wouldn’t have me cut old Billy in the streets, would you?  If I didn’t speak to Jinny she’d think I was angry with her, and cry her eyes out.  She has a tender heart, poor girl.  She is a sensitive soul, and craves for social distinction.  She looks to me to secure them a footing in exclusive circles, Mr. McGuire.”

“I don’t know what y’re talkin’ about,” Stub grumbled, “but that’s enough of it, see?”

Nickie took no notice of his employer’s admonitions, however, and when a clergyman drove up in a buggy an hour later, our hero intercepted him at the gate.

“Good afternoon, sir,” he said.  “Would you mind tellin’ Willyum inside there how Nickie sends him his compliments, and ’opes Jinny’s quite well.”

“My good fellow, you must not be insolent,” ejaculated the minister.

“They won’t take it as hinsolence,” Nicholas explained.  “They’ve er very touchin’ regard fer me.  Tell them.  I arsked after ’em, won’t yer?”

Even Stub McGuire noticed that Nickie, whose speech was usually excellent, adopted the vulgar tongue in addressing the man he called Billy, or any of his friends or relations.

Next day, Nickie inveigled three children, who were playing on the lawn, and entertained them at the gate with frivolous conversation for nearly ten minutes, when the state of affairs was discovered by their dignified mamma, who sent a maid flying to the rescue.  Nickie took off his hat to the maid.

“Tell Willyum,” he said, “that bein’ ‘andy, I’ll drop in ter lunch t’ day, but Jinny’s not on no account t’ put up a big spread fer me.  I’ll jist take what’s goin’.”

He finished these remarks at the top of his voice, the girl being half-way back to the house.

When the important man in immaculate black came out a little later, Nickie saluted him gravely, as between gentlemen, but without deference.

“‘Ow’s it, Billy?” he said.  “You might drop in an’ see me this evenin’.  I’m livin’ under th’ blackberry hedge back o’ your stables.”