wouldn't wait."

"And all the dancing will be amongst yourselves?"

Chorus: "Of course, Father!"

"And no waltzes or continental abominations?"

Chorus: "Oh dear, no!"

"And you'll all be in your beds at twelve o'clock?"

Chorus: "To the minute, Father."

"Well, God forgive me, but what can I do? Go on, you little heathens,
and--"

"Thank you, Father--"

"Thank you, Father--"

"Thank you, Father--," etc., etc.

I went home with a troubled conscience, and I read that blessed Maynooth
statute about dances. Then I had no sleep that night.

The doctor and the deputation called on me about a fortnight later to
settle accounts. I thought they were not very enthusiastic. They left
the door open, and sat near it.

"We came to settle about the concert, sir," said the doctor; "we thought
you'd would like to see our balance-sheet."

[Illustration: "Good Heavens!" was all I could say. (p. 89.)]

"Yes," I said, demurely, "and, of course, if the balance itself was
convenient--"

"It isn't as much as we thought," said the doctor, laying a small brown
parcel on the table. "The expenses were enormous. Now, look at these,"
he said, softly detaining my hand, as it moved towards the parcel.

I read the list of expenses. It was appalling. I cast a corner of my eye
farther down, and read, without pretending to see anything:--

"Total balance = 4_s_. 11-1/2_d_."

"Boys," said I, as I saw them putting their hands over their mouths with
that unmistakable Hibernian gesture, "you have done yourselves a great
injustice."

"I assure you, sir," said the schoolmaster--

"You mistake my meaning," I interrupted. "What I was about to say was
this,--when young men give their services gratuitously, and undertake
great labor in the cause of religion and charity, it would be most
unfair to expect that they would also make a pecuniary sacrifice."

They looked relieved.

"Now, I have reason to know that you all have undergone great expense in
connection with this concert."

There was a smirk of pharisaical satisfaction on their faces.

"But I cannot allow it. My conscience would not permit me. I see no
record in this balance-sheet of the three dozen of Guinness that was
ordered for the dressing-room. And there is not a word about the box of
Havanas, which William Mescal ordered specially from Dublin; nor any
mention of the soda-water and accompaniments that were hauled up in a
basket through the back window. Really, I cannot a