“Irish! Oh, I’d like to hear it so much!” cried Miss Pamela. “Oh, do make her talk!” Exactly as if she were alluding to some mechanical toy, such as a talking-doll. “She’s not much of a talker, at all, miss--and she’s cruel old; and so many quality coming in on her at once has a bit stunned her. I’m sorry we are short of sates,” looking round, and proffering the turf creel to Lady Rachel. “And I’ve no tay, but lashins of butter-milk.” “Never mind anything, thank you,” said Mr. West, pompously; “we have just lunched.” “Oh, an’ is that yourself, me noble gentleman, from the castle below! An’ ’tis proud I am to see yees. And here’s Michael for ye,” as a tall dark countryman with long black whiskers entered, amazement at the invasion depicted in his dark blue eyes. “’Tis a wet day, Michael,” said Mr. West, who employed him as a beater. “’Tis so, yer honour.” “Do you think it will last?” asked Madeline. “I could not rightly say, miss; but I think not. It come on so sudden.” “I suppose you have been to the town to Mass?” “Yes, sir; second Mass.” “Did you meet any friends, Micky? Did you get a drink?” inquired Lord Tony, insinuatingly. “No, not to say a drink, sir.” “Well, what?” “Just a _taste_.” “And if you were to be treated, Mick, what would you choose? Give it a name, now,” said Lord Tony, genially. “Oh, whisky and porter!” “What, together?” “Ay. And why not? Sure, ’tis the best in many ways.” “What makes you say that?” “Faix! an’ with raison. If I drink porter I’m full before I’m drunk, ye see; if I drink whisky, I’m drunk before I’m full, and both together comes about right.” “Michael,” cried his wife, “’tis you as ought to be dead ashamed, talking in such a coarse, loose way before the ladies! Ye has them all upset, so ye has.” And, to make a diversion, she darted into the room and returned with (by way of a treat for the ladies) a baby in her arms. It had weak, blinking, blue eyes, was wrapped in an old shawl, and was apparently about a month old. However, it created quite the sensation its mother had anticipated. “Oh, Lord,” cried Mr. West, “a baby! I hate babies, though I like small children--especially little boys! Take it away before it starts screaming.” “Oh, show it to me! Let me have it!” came simultaneously from several quarters; but in each case the baby received its new friend with a yell, and had to be promptly returned to its apologetic parent. Several had tried their hand upon it; Miss Pam, Mrs. Leach, Miss Lumley, and Lady Rachel had been repulsed in turn. “Now, Maddie, let us see what way you would manage it, or if you know which end is uppermost!” said Lady Rachel, taking the child from its mother, and laying it in Madeline’s arms.