d opinion.

The interior of the villa changed the current of conversation, and now
Mrs. Ricketts felt herself at home examining the rich brocade of the
hangings, the bronzes, and the inlaid tables.

"Lyons silk,----twenty-four francs a metre!" whispered she to Scroope.

"I thought they had n't a s-s-sixpence," observed the other.

"And these things are new, Scroope!--all new!"

"I--I--I was observing that, sister."

"What a creature he is, Scroope!--what a creature!"

"And the daughter, I suspect, is only ha-ha-half-witted."

"Humph!" ejaculated Zoe, as though she did not quite coincide with that
opinion.

The confidential dialogue was broken in upon by Dalton, who, having
dragged the poor General over the terrace and the flower-garden, was now
showing him the inside of the dwelling.

"If I could but see dear Kate here!" sighed Mrs. Ricketts, as she slowly
sank into a downy chair, "I'd fancy this was home. It's all so like
herself,--such graceful elegance, such tasteful splendor."

"It's neat,----I think it's neat," said Dalton, almost bursting with the
effort to repress his delight.

[Illustration: 250]

"Oh, sir, it's princely! It's worthy the great name of its possessor.
Dear Kate often told me of her beautiful home."

"I thought you li-li-lived over a toy-shop? Foglass said you li-lived--"

"So we did while the place was getting ready," said Dalton, flushing.

"Just let me sit here, and watch the rippling of that shining river!"
sighed Mrs. Ricketts, laying her hand on Dalton's, and, by a melting
look, withdrawing him from Scroope's unlucky reminiscence. "If I could
but pass the night here, I feel it would be ecstasy."

"What easier, if it's in earnest you are?" cried Dalton. "We never make
use of this little drawing-room. Nelly will get you a bed put up in five
minutes."

"Is n't that Irish, Scroope?--is n't that what I often told you of
Ireland?" cried Zoe, as her eyes glistened.

"Well, but I'm not joking," resumed Dalton; "small as the place is, we
can make room for you all. We 'll put Miss Martha in Nelly's room, and
the General can have mine; and there's a mighty snug tittle place for
you in the garden."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear Ireland, how I love you!" said Mrs. Ricketts,
closing her eyes, and affecting to talk in her sleep.

"There's worse places," murmured Dalton, who drank in national flattery
as the pleasantest "tipple" after personal. "But say the word, now, and
see if we won't m