ying, but on the road to a fortune, inasmuch as
it was already an article in the decrees of fashion among the nobility
and gentry of both sexes in the metropolis to have their linen and laces
washed at the Mattock laundry.

Mr. Colesworth said he was the brother of the lady in question, he
had also the pleasure of an acquaintance with Miss Mattock. He was
vehemently congratulated on the relationship, which bore witness, the
captain armed, to a certain hereditary share of brains greatly to be
envied: brother of Miss Colesworth, a title of distinction in itself!
He was congratulated not less cordially for his being so fortunate as to
know Miss Mattock, one of a million.

Captain Con retained the hand of Father Boyle and squeezed it during his
eulogies, at the same time dispensing nods and winks and sunny sparkles
upon Kathleen. Mr. Colesworth went upstairs to his room not unflattered.
The flattery enveloped him in the pleasant sense of a somehow now
established companionship for the day with a pleasant person from whom
he did not wish to separate.

'You made the gentleman's acquaintance, my dear...?' said Con.

Kathleen answered: 'He made friends with our Patrick on the Continent,
I think it was in Germany, and came to us to study the old country,
bearing a letter from Patrick. He means to be one of their writers on
the newspapers. He studies everything; he has written books. He called
on us coming and called on us going and we came over together,' said
Miss Kathleen. 'But tell me: our Philip?'

'Books!' Con exclaimed. 'It's hard to discover a man in these days who
hasn't written books. Oh! Philip! Ease your heart about Philip. They're
nursing him, round. He was invalided at the right moment for him, no
fear. I gave him his chance of the last vacant seat up to the last hour,
and now the die is cast and this time I 'm off to it. Poor Philip--yes,
yes! we 're sorry to see him flat all his length, we love him; he's
a gallant soldier; alive to his duty; and that bludgeon sun of India
knocked him down, and that fall from his horse finished the business,
and there he lies. But he'll get up, and he might have accepted the seat
and spared me my probation: he's not married, I am, I have a wife, and
Master Philip divides me against my domestic self, he does. But let that
be: I serve duty too. Not a word to our friend up yonder. It's a secret
with a time-fuse warranted to explode safe enough when the minutes are
up, and make a