is it
punch you are giving?"

"Most excellent, I assure you, Mrs. Rooney."

"And how is the Duke, sir? I hope his Grace enjoys good health. He is a
darling of a man."

By-the-by, it is perfectly absurd the sympathy your third or fourth-rate
people feel in the health and habits of those above them in station,
pleased as they are to learn the most common-place and worthless
trifles concerning them, and happy when, by any chance, some accidental
similitude would seem to exist even between their misfortunes.

"And the dear Duchess," resumed Mrs. Rooney, "she's troubled with the
nerves like myself. Ah! Mr. Hinton, what an affliction it is to have a
sensitive nature; that's what I often say to my sweet young friend here.
It's better for her to be the gay, giddy, thoughtless, happy thing
she is, than----" Here the lady sighed, wiped her eyes, flourished her
cambric, and tried to look like Agnes in the "Bleeding Nun." "But here
they come. You don't know Mr. Rooney? Allow me to introduce him to you."

As she spoke, O'Grady cantered up to the carriage, accompanied by a
short, pursy, round-faced little man, who, with his hat set knowingly
on one side, and his top-boots scarce reaching to the middle of the
leg, bestrode a sharp, strong-boned hackney, with cropped ears and short
tail. He carried in his hand a hunting-whip, and seemed, by his seat in
the saddle and the easy finger upon the bridle, no indifferent horseman.

"Mr. Rooney," said the lady, drawing herself up with a certain austerity
of manner, "I wish you to make the acquaintance of Mr. Hinton, the
aide-de-camp to his Grace."

Mr. Rooney lifted his hat straight above his head, and replaced it a
little more obliquely than before over his right eye.

"Delighted, upon my honour--faith, quite charmed--hope you got something
to eat--there never was such a murthering hot day--Bob Dwyer, open a
bottle of port--the Captain is famished."

"I say, Hinton," called out O'Grady, "you forgot the Duke, it seems; he
told me you'd gone in search of some sherry, or something of the kind;
but I can readily conceive how easily a man may forget himself in such a
position as yours."

Here Mrs. Paul dropped her head in deep confusion, Miss Bellew looked
saucy, and I, for the first time remembering what brought me there, was
perfectly overwhelmed with shame at my carelessness.

"Never mind, boy, don't fret about it, his Grace is the most forgiving
man in the world; and when he know