ho eagerly awaited to resume the
interrupted conversation.

"Your plan, Mr. Cashel; we are dying to hear it," cried one.

"Oh, by all means; how are we to elect the queen?" said another.

"What say you to a lottery," said he, "or something equally the upshot
of chance? For instance, let the first lady who enters the room be
queen."

"Very good indeed," said Lady Janet, aloud; then added, in a whisper,
"I see that old Mrs. Malone with her husband toddling up the avenue this
instant."

"Olivia, my love," whispered Mrs. Kennyfeck to her daughter, "fetch me
my work here, and don't be a moment away, child. He's so amusing!" And
the young lady glided unseen from the room at her mamma's bidding. After
a short but animated conversation, it was decided that this mode of
choice should be adopted; and now all stood in anxious expectancy to see
who first should enter. At last footsteps were heard approaching, and
the interest rose higher.

"Leddy Janet was right," said Sir Andrew, with a grin; "ye 'll hae Mrs.
Malone for your sovereign,--I ken her step weel."

"By Jove!" cried Upton, "I 'll dispute the succession; that would never
do."

"That's-a lighter tread and a faster," said Cashel, listening.

"There are two coming," cried Mrs. White; "I hear voices: how are we
then to decide?"

There was no time to canvass this knotty point, when a hand was heard
upon the door-handle; it turned, and just as the door moved, a sound of
feet upon the terrace without,--running at full speed,--turned every eye
in that direction, and the same instant Miss Meek sprang into the room
through the window, while Lord Charles and Linton hurried after her, at
the same moment that Lady Kilgoff, followed by Olivia Kennyfeck, entered
by the door.

Miss Meek's appearance might have astonished the company, had even
her _entree_ been more ceremonious; for she was without hat, her
hair falling in long, dishevelled masses about her shoulders, and her
riding-habit, torn and ragged, was carried over one arm, with a freedom
much more in accordance with speed than grace.

"Beat by two lengths, Charley," cried she, in a joyous, merry laugh;
"beat in a canter,--Mr. Linton, nowhere."

"Oh, dear me, what is all this, Jemima love?" softly sighed her bland
papa; "you've not been riding, I hope?"

"Schooling a bit with Charley, pa, and as we left the nags at the
stable, they challenged me to a race home; I don't think they'll do it
again. Do look how they