o his disgraceful conduct without wounding
Olive's vanity was an art that Mrs. Barton practised daily; and to keep
the girl in spirits she induced Sir Charles, who it was reported was
about to emigrate his family to the wilds of Maratoga, to come and stay
with them. If a rumour were to reach the Marquis's ears, it might help
to bring him to the point. In any case Sir Charles's attentions to Olive
would keep her in humour until the great day arrived.

Well convinced that this was her last throw, Mrs. Barton resolved to
smear the hook well with the three famous baits she was accustomed to
angle with. They were--dinners, flattery, and dancing. Accordingly, an
order was given to the Dublin fishmonger to send them fish daily for the
next three weeks, and to the pastrycook for a French cook. The store of
flattery kept on the premises being illimitable, she did not trouble
about that, but devoted herself to the solution of the problem of how
she should obtain a constant and unfailing supply of music. Once she
thought of sending up to Dublin for a professional pianist, but was
obliged to abandon the idea on account of the impossibility of devising
suitable employment for him during the morning hours. A tune or two
might not come in amiss after lunch, but to have him hanging about the
shrubberies all the morning would be intolerable. She might ask a couple
of the Brennans or the Duffys to stay with them, but they would be in
the way, and occupy the Marquis's time, and go tell-taling all over the
country; no, that wouldn't do either. Alice's playing was wretched. It
was a wonderful thing that a girl like her would not make some effort to
amuse men--would not do something. Once Olive was married, she (Mrs.
Barton) would try to patch up something for this gawk of a girl--marry
her to Sir Charles; excellent match it would be, too--get all the
children emigrated first: and if he would not have her, there was Sir
Richard. It was said that he was quite reformed--had given up drink. But
there was no use thinking of that: for the present she would have to put
up with the girl's music, which was wretched.

Olive fell in with her mother's plans, and she angled industriously for
Lord Kilcarney. She did not fail to say in or out of season, '_Il n'y a
personne comme notre cher Marquis_,' and as the turbot and fruit, that
had arrived by the afternoon train from Dublin, were discussed, Milord
did not cease to make the most appropriate remarks.