“Or a young one, my dear!” Then as if pleased with her epigram she sank back on her pillow with a smile. Joy paused; she did not know what to say. A diversion came from the stewardess who had all the time stood in the doorway waiting for some sort of instructions: “Bedad, Miss Hayes, it’s to Ireland ye ought to come. A lovely young lady like yerself--for all yer jabber about an ould maid iv forty--wouldn’t be let get beyant Queenstown, let alone the Mall in Cork. Bedad if ye was in Athlone its the shillelaghs that would be out an’ the byes all fightin’ for who’d get the hould on to ye first. Whisper me now, is it coddin’ us ye be doin’ or what?” Joy turned round to her, her face all dimpled with laughter, and said: “That’s the way to talk to her Mrs. O’Brien. You just take her in hand; and when we get to Queenstown find some nice big Irishman to carry her off.” “Bedad I will! An sorra the shtruggle she’d make agin it anyhow I’m thinkin’!” Aunt Judy laughed: “Joy” she said “you’d better be careful yourself or maybe she’d put on some of her bachelor press-gang to abduct you.” “Don’t you be onaisy about that ma’am,” said Mrs. O’Brien quietly. “I’ve fixed that already! When I seen Miss Joy come down the companion shtairs I sez to meself: ‘There’s only wan man in Ireland--an that’s in all the wurrld--that’s good enough for you, me darlin’. An he’ll have you for sure or I’m a gandher!’” “Indeed!” said Joy, blushing in spite of herself. “And may I be permitted to know my ultimate destination in the way of matrimony? You won’t think me inquisitive or presuming I trust.” Her eyes were dancing with the fun of the thing. Mrs. O’Brien laughed heartily; a round, cheery, honest laugh which was infectious: “Wid all the plisure in life Miss. Shure there’s only the wan, an him the finest and beautifullest young man ye iver laid yer pritty eyes on. An him an Earrl, more betoken; wid more miles iv land iv his own then there does be pitaties in me ould father’s houldin! Musha, he’s the only wan that’s at all fit to take yer swate self in his charrge!” “H’m! Quite condescending of him I am sure. And now what may be his sponsorial and patronymic appellatives?” Mrs. O’Brien at once became grave. To an uneducated person, and more especially an Irish person, an unknown phrase is full of mystery. It makes the listener feel small and disconcerted, touching the personal pride which is so marked a characteristic of all degrees of the Irish race. Joy, with the quick understanding which was not the least of her endowments, saw that she had made a mistake and hastened to set matters right before the chagrin had time to bite deep: “Forgive me, but that was _my_ fun. What I meant to ask are the name and title of my destined Lord and Master?” The stewardess answered heartily, the ruffle of her face softening into an amiable smile: “Amn’t I tellin’ ye miss. Shure there is only the wan!” “And who may he be?”