hout
her. She's impertinent, and often nearly insupportable; but isn't she
the most placable creature on earth? I venture to say I might kill you,
Lieutenant O'Flaherty--of course, with your permission, Sir--and she'd
forgive me to-morrow morning! And she really does princely
things--doesn't she? She set up that ugly widow--what's her name?--twice
in a shop in Dame Street, and gave two hundred pounds to poor Scamper's
orphan, and actually pensions that old miscreant, Wagget, who ought to
be hanged--and never looks for thanks or compliments, or upbraids her
ingrates with past kindnesses. She's noble--Aunt Becky's every inch a
gentleman!'

By this time they had reached the tent, and the hearty voice of the
general challenged them from the shade, as he filliped a little chime
merrily on his empty glass.

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHICH CONCERNS THE GRAND DINNER AT THE KING'S HOUSE, AND WHO WERE THERE,
AND SOMETHING OF THEIR TALK, REVERIES, DISPUTES, AND GENERAL JOLLITY.

It was about this time that the dinner-party at the King's House came
off. Old Colonel and Mrs. Stafford were hospitable, if not very
entertaining, and liked to bring their neighbours together, without
ceremony, round a saddle of mutton and a gooseberry pie, and other such
solid comforts; and then, hey for a round game!--for the young people,
Pope Joan, or what you please, in the drawing-room, with lots of
flirting and favouritism, and a jolly little supper of broiled bones and
whipt cream, and toasts and sentiments, with plenty of sly allusions and
honest laughter all round the table. But twice or thrice in the year the
worthy couple made a more imposing gathering at the King's House, and
killed the fatted calf, and made a solemn feast to the big wigs and the
notables of Chapelizod, with just such a sprinkling of youngsters as
sufficed to keep alive the young people whom they brought in their
train. There was eating of venison and farced turkeys, and other stately
fare; and they praised the colonel's claret, and gave the servants their
'veils' in the hall, and drove away in their carriages, with flambeaux
and footmen, followed by the hearty good-night of the host from the
hall-door steps, and amazing the quiet little town with their rattle and
glare.

Dinner was a five o'clock affair in those days, and the state parlour
was well filled. There was old Bligh from the Magazine--I take the
guests in order of arrival--and the Chattesworths, and the Walsing