t the supper-table, he was supremely happy. Nor
was it wonderful, considering the pleased looks and bland faces that
he saw on each side of him. All his stories were new to his present
audience. Mount Dalton and its doings were an anecdotic mine, of which
they had never explored a single "shaft." The grandeur of his family
was a theme all listened to with interest and respect; and as Mrs.
Ricketts's flattery was well-timed and cleverly administered, and
Scroope's blunders fewer and less impertinent than usual, the evening
was altogether a very pleasant one, and, as the cant is, went off
admirably.

If Nelly had now and then little misgivings about the over-anxiety
to please displayed by Mrs. Ricketts, and a certain exaggerated
appreciation she occasionally bestowed upon her father's "Irishism," she
was far too distrustful of her own judgment not to set down her fears
to ignorance of life and its conventionalities. "It would ill
become _her_," she thought, "to criticise people so well-bred and
so well-mannered." And this modest depreciation of herself saved the
others.

It was thus that the hosts felt towards their guests as they wished them
good-night, and cordially shook hands at parting.

"As agreeable an old lady as ever I met," said Dalton to his daughter;
"and not wanting in good sense either."

"I like Miss Martha greatly," said Nelly. "She is so gently mannered and
so mild, I'm sure Kate was fond of her."

"I like them all but the little chap with the stutter. He seems so
curious about everything."

"They are all so pleased--so satisfied with everything," said Nelly,
enthusiastically.

"And why wouldn't they? There's worse quarters, let me tell you, than
this! It is n't under Peter Dalton's roof that people go to bed hungry.
I wouldn't wonder if they'd pass a day or two with us."

"Do you think so?" said Nelly, scarcely knowing whether to be pleased or
the reverse.

"Well see to-morrow," said Dalton, as he took his candle and began to
climb up the stairs to the room which he was now to occupy instead of
his own chamber, singing, as he went, an old ballad,----

"The whole Balrothery hunt was there,
And welcome were they all!
With two in a bed, and four on the stairs,
And twelve in the Bachelor's hall!"

Leaving Dalton to con over the stray verses of his once favorite ballad
as he dropped off to sleep, we turn for a moment to the chamber which,
by right of conquest, w