l wreaths at that shop in Grafton
Street, both hanging from bars, you know; and that would be so much
prettier. I'm sure Fanny would like flowers best; wouldn't she now,
Frank?--Mamma thinks the common cross-bar patterns are nicer for
furniture."

"Indeed I do, my dear," said Mrs O'Kelly; "and you see them much more
common now in well-furnished drawing-rooms. But still I'd much sooner
have them just what Fanny would like best. Surely, Frank, you must have
heard her speak about worsted-work?"

All this completely disconcerted Frank, and made him very much out of
love with his own plan of consulting his mother. He gave the trio some
not very encouraging answer as to their good-natured intentions towards
his drawing-room, and again left them alone. "Well; there's nothing for
it but to send the parson; I don't think he'll make a fool of himself,
but then I know he'll look so shabby. However, here goes," and he
mounted his nag, and rode off to Ballindine glebe.

The glebe-house was about a couple of miles from Kelly's Court, and it
was about half-past four when Lord Ballindine got there. He knocked at
the door, which was wide open, though it was yet only the last day of
March, and was told by a remarkably slatternly maid-servant, that her
master was "jist afther dinner;" that he was stepped out, but was about
the place, and could be "fetched in at oncet;"--and would his honour
walk in? And so Lord Ballindine was shown into the rectory drawing-room
on one side of the passage (alias hall), while the attendant of all
work went to announce his arrival in the rectory dining-room on the
other side. Here Mrs Armstrong was sitting among her numerous progeny,
securing the _debris_ of the dinner from their rapacious paws, and
endeavouring to make two very unruly boys consume the portions of fat
which had been supplied to them with, as they loudly declared, an
unfairly insufficient quantum of lean. As the girl was good-natured
enough to leave both doors wide open, Frank had the full advantage of
the conversation.

"Now, Greg," said the mother, "if you leave your meat that way I'll
have it put by for you, and you shall have nothing but potatoes till
it's ate."

"Why, mother, it's nothing but tallow; look here; you gave me all the
outside part."

"I'll tell your dada, and see what he'll say, if you call the meat
tallow; and you're just as bad, Joe; worse if anything--gracious me,
here's waste! well, I'll lock it up for you, and y