would," broke in Mrs. Kennyfeck; "but, you perceive, it was very
doubtful, at the time, which of the girls he preferred."

"And you tell me this Mr. Linton has such influence over him."

"The most absolute. It is only a few weeks since they became acquainted,
and now they are inseparable."

"What is he like,--Linton himself?"

Mrs. Kennyfeck gave a most significant signal, by closing up her lips,
and slowly nodding her head,--a gesture that seemed well understood.

"Does Kennyfeck know nothing of his affairs; has he no private history
of the man, which might be useful to us?"

"Don't think of that, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, knowingly; "but
here they come at last." This was said with reference to the sound of
footsteps on the stairs, which gradually approached, and at last Mr.
Kennyfeck made his appearance in the drawing-room.

"Where is Mr. Cashel,--is he gone?" asked Mrs. Kennyfeck, in an accent
of unusual anxiety.

"He went away above an hour ago. He wanted to see a letter, or to write
one, or to look for one he had lost,--I forget which."

"I'm certain you do!" observed Mrs. Kennyfeck, with an expression of
unequivocal contempt. "I am perfectly certain we need not look to you
for either information or assistance."

Poor Mr. Kennyfeck was dumfoundered. The very words were riddles to
him, and he turned to each person about him in silent entreaty for
explanation; but none came.

"What had you been conversing about?" asked Aunt Fanny, in that
encouraging tone lawyers sometimes use to draw out a reluctant or
bashful witness.

"Of his money affairs, Miss O'Hara; and I am grieved to say that the
subject had so little interest for him, that he started up and left me
on suddenly remembering something about a letter."

"Which something you have totally forgotten," remarked Mrs. Kennyfeck,
tartly.

"And yet it would be a most important fact for us," observed Aunt Fanny,
with judicial solemnity; "a letter, whether to read or to write, of such
pressing necessity, implies much."

"Come, Livy, dear," said Miss Kennyfeck, rising from the pianoforte, and
addressing her sister, who sat reading on the sofa, "_my_ canzonette and
_your_ beautiful attitude are so much sweetness thrown away. He's gone
without even a thought of either! There, there, don't look so innocently
vacant,--you understand me perfectly."

A very gentle smile was all the younger sister's reply as she left the
room.

"Depend upon it, my