“You are half French, you know,” she explained; “your grandfather was the Duc de Hernoncourt, a French nobleman.” “My grandfather! Sure I always think of old Joe Foley as that!” “Yes. You will soon get accustomed to your relations. Mary Foley is gone; we will never see her again; we will forget her, and give her dress and boots and hat and clothes to some poor woman. And now we will go downstairs together, and eat our dinner.” “Oh, dear me, I’m so frightened, I’m all of a tremble; the legs is giving under me.” “Your ladyship should say trembling--not all of a tremble; and you need not mention your legs. Come, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” “That’s what Mrs. Hogan said; her last words were to hold up my head, and not be afraid of anybody--but sure, talking is easy!” “You are not afraid of the lift now, are you?” “No, I like it finely. I love going up and down in it.” “Everything will be the same in time, my dear girl. Just keep a cool head, and wait.” “Oh, I declare I feel all goose-flesh!” whispered her charge. “Never mind; follow me closely. This way. Our table is in a corner”--and as she spoke the chaperon entered the brilliantly lit dining-room--already crowded--and proceeded to steer Lady Joseline into society for the first time. CHAPTER XX “I don’t rightly know whether I am on me head or my heels!” declared her ladyship, when she had taken a seat in the corner, with her back against the wall, and proceeded to gaze about her. “What a power of people! I suppose this is a glimpse of what Father Daly calls ‘the world.’ No,” to the ready waiter, “no broth!” The man, with blank, impassive face, bowed, and offered soup to Miss Usher. “Dear child,” she murmured, when he had departed, “this is _soup_; we don’t call it broth.” “Very well then, I won’t”--taking up the ménu, and looking over it. “I declare to goodness if it isn’t in a foreign language! Will ye tell me, what’s the use of that?” “I’m sure I cannot give you any reason, but it’s the fashion. You will find it everywhere.” “And such a lot of things. I can guess at some names: ‘enter’ and ‘relieve’--hunger, I suppose.” Here Miss Usher leant across and carefully explained the meaning of ‘entrée’ and ‘relève’--the names of the courses; whilst the girl listened, with both elbows firmly planted on the table. “You should not sit like that, my child,” suggested the teacher of manners. “No? But there’s a girl doing it over there,” argued the pupil; and, pointing with a taper finger, she indicated a young woman in a loud tea-gown with a towzled head and arms bare to the shoulder, who was holding forth to a shiny-faced, dissipated-looking man. “Never mind, my dear, you need not take her for a model. Look at those two nice girls in white. Now have some fish?” “Claret or Chablis, my lady?” “No, thank ye,” she responded, “I never drink wine at all; but I’d be glad of a glass of spring water, or”--as an afterthought--“if ye have such a thing as a sup of fresh buttermilk?”