"Charles O'Malley, sir.

I'm come to have a bit of your advice; and as the affair won't keep, I have been obliged to disturb you." "Never mind, Charley," said the count; "sit down, there's a chair somewhere near the bed,--have you found it?
There! Well now, what is it?
What news of Blake ?" "Very bad; no worse.

But it is not exactly _that_ I came about; I've got into a scrape, sir." "Run off with one of the daughters," said Considine.

"By jingo, I knew what those artful devils would be after." "Not so bad as that," said I, laughing.

"It's just a row, a kind of squabble; something that must come--" "Ay, ay," said the count, brightening up; "say you so, Charley?
Begad, the young ones will beat us all out of the field.