'I must congratulate you. Everyone is admiring your dress; I assure you your train looked perfectly regal.' 'I am glad you like it,' replied Mrs. Barton; 'but what do you think of Olive? Do you like her dress?' 'Oh, Olive has no need of my praises. If I were not afraid of making her too vain I would tell her that all Dublin is talking of her. Indeed, I heard a gentleman say--a gentleman who, I believe, writes for the papers--that she will be in the _World_ or _Truth_ next week as the belle of the season. None of the other young ladies will have a chance with her.' 'Oh, I don't know about that,' exclaimed Mrs. Barton, laughing merrily; 'haven't you got your Violet?--whom, by the way, you have transformed into a beautiful daisy. It will be, perhaps, not the Rose nor the Olive that will carry off the prize, but the daisy.' Violet glanced sharply at Mrs. Barton, and there was hate in the glance; for, although her mother did not, she understood well what was meant by the allusion to the daisy, the humblest of the earth's flowers. The appearance, however, of Lord Kilcarney brought the conversation to a close; and, not knowing how to address him, Olive laughed beautifully from behind her silver fan. They entered Patrick's Hall, where Lord Dungory, Lord Rosshill, and others were waiting to receive Mrs. Barton, who sought for a prominent seat, and dealing out pearly laughs and winsome compliments to her court, she watched Olive, who, according to orders, had taken Lord Kilcarney to sit on the highest of the series of benches that lined one side of the room, which she did, and for a moment Mrs. Barton felt as if she held Dublin under her satin shoe. Alice was her only trouble. What would she do with this gawk of a girl? But soon even this difficulty was solved, for Harding came up and asked her if he might take her to get an ice. 'How absurd we looked dressed up in this way,' said Harding; 'look at that attorney and the court sword. It would be just as logical to stick a quill pen behind the ear of a fat pig.' 'Well, the sword--I confess I don't see much meaning in that; but the rest of the dress is well enough. I don't see why one style of dress should be more absurd than another, unless it is because it isn't the fashion.' 'Yes, but that is just the reason; just fancy dressing oneself up in the costume of a bygone time.' 'And is everything that isn't the fashion ridiculous?' 'Ah, there, I fancy, you have the best of the argument. Waiter, a strawberry ice. But did you say you would have strawberry?' 'I don't think I did, for I prefer lemon.'