Mrs. Hill-Smith trembled a little, but answered, coldly: “I think you must have been misinformed.” “Well, hardly,” responded Senator Mulligan, blithely, “since it was your own father as tould me, not half an hour ago. I knew th’ ould man well--an’ he was an honest ould cuss, but for tobacco-chewin’ an’ bad whiskey ye’ll not find his match betune here and the lakes o’ Killarney. He knew how to turn th’ honest pinny though, did ould man Slater. No givin’ of widders an’ orphans the turn of the scale, nor the turn of a hair neither--he was out for the last rid cint. He was a good-lookin’ ould chap, when he was washed up and had on a clean shirt--and now, I’ll say, I think you’re like him--_raymarkably_ like him--and it’s up to you to prove that he wasn’t your grandfather, begorra!” Had a bomb with a burning fuse dropped at Mrs. Hill-Smith’s feet, she could not have been any more astounded. She looked from Mince Pie Mulligan’s laughing face to Eleanor Baldwin’s, and then glanced helplessly around the circle. It was impossible not to see that the British Ambassador, Thorndyke, and the wretched Castlestuart-Stuart, who was primarily responsible for the whole dreadful business, were all enjoying themselves extremely. Constance Maitland alone seemed to feel some sympathy for the unfortunates. It was, however, chiefly on account of Mrs. Baldwin, who began to be painfully embarrassed, that Constance said, smilingly, to Senator Mulligan: “Your reminiscences are very interesting, and what you say of Mrs. Baldwin’s father must give her cause for honest pride. You have described a phase of American life of which nobody need be ashamed.” “Except them as has been through it,” promptly responded Senator Mulligan. “There’s some things human nature”--he called it “natur”--“will always be ashamed of as long as it is human nature. One of ’em is that more people blush for a rise in their family than for a fall. And it ain’t so foolish as it seems; because, if you were born on top of the pile, and all your people were, bedad, you don’t do any of these outlandish things such as me young friend,” indicating Castlestuart-Stuart, “has been tellin’ us about. By the way,” asked Senator Mulligan, explosively, of the terrible Castlestuart-Stuart, “who was it give the dinner anyhow?” And what should that scion of aristocracy, the Honourable Edward George Francis Castlestuart-Stuart, do but answer: “Miss Baldwin’s was the last I went to--but there were plenty of others!” Ambassadors are not supposed to laugh--but at this, the British Ambassador abandoned all hope of keeping serious. Constance was laughing frankly, Thorndyke was in quiet convulsions, Castlestuart-Stuart and Senator Mulligan were exchanging sympathetic grins--and then Eleanor Baldwin said, with the air of an offended queen: “Papa, give me your arm.” This Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin, with a heightened colour, did, but not before Senator Mulligan genially remarked: