rney, placing her chair for her. 'We
're a small party to-day. I see Dick does not dine with us.'

'Maybe I hunted him away. The young gentlemen of the present day are frank
enough to say what they think of old maids. That's very elegant, and I'm
sure it's refined,' said she, pointing to the mass of fruit and flowers so
tastefully arranged before her. 'But I was born in a time when people liked
to see what they were going to eat, Mathew Kearney, and as I don't intend
to break my fast on a stockgilly-flower, or make a repast of raisins, I
prefer the old way. Fill up my glass whenever it's empty,' said she to the
servant, 'and don't bother me with the name of it. As long as I know the
King's County, and that's more than fifty years, we've been calling Cape
Madeira, Sherry!'

'If we know what we are drinking, Miss O'Shea, I don't suppose it matters
much.'

'Nothing at all, Mathew. Calling you the Viscount Kilgobbin, as I read a
while ago, won't confuse me about an old neighbour.'

'Won't you try a cutlet, godmother?' asked Kate hurriedly.

'Indeed I will, my dear. I don't know why I was sending the man away. I
never saw this way of dining before, except at the poorhouse, where each
poor creature has his plateful given him, and pockets what he can't eat.'
And here she laughed long and heartily at the conceit.

Kearney's good-humour relished the absurdity, and he joined in the laugh,
while Nina stared at the old woman as an object of dread and terror.

'And that boy that wouldn't dine with us. How is he turning out, Mathew?
They tell me he's a bit of a scamp.'

'He's no such thing, godmother. Dick is as good a fellow and as
right-minded as ever lived, and you yourself would be the first to say it
if you saw him,' cried Kate angrily.

'So would the young lady yonder, if I might judge from her blushes,' said
Miss Betty, looking at Nina. 'Not indeed but it's only now I'm remembering
that you're not a boy. That little red cap and that thing you wear round
your throat deceived me.'

'It is not the lot of every one to be so fortunate in a head-dress as Miss
O'Shea,' said Nina, very calmly.

'If it's my wig you are envying me, my dear,' replied she quietly, 'there's
nothing easier than to have the own brother of it. It was made by Crimp, of
Nassau Street, and box and all cost four pound twelve.'

'Upon my life, Miss Betty,' broke in Kearney, 'you are tempting me to an
extravagance.' And he passed his hand over his spar