“Yes; since he has lost his seat in the House, England has become too hot for him. And, besides,” added he, slyly, “he has told me in confidence that if 'the party,' as he calls them, should not give him something, he knows of a widow somewhere near this might suit him. 'I don't say that she's rich, mind you,' said he, 'but she's 'cute as a fox, and would be sure to keep a man's head above water somehow.'” Mrs. Morris held her handkerchief to her mouth, but the sense of the ridiculous could not be suppressed, and she laughed out. “What would I not have given to have heard him, papa!” said she, at last “Well, it really _was_ good,” said he, wiping his eyes; for he, too, had indulged in a very hearty laugh, particularly when he narrated all the pains O'Shea had been at to discover who Penthony Morris was, where he came from, and what fortune he had. “'It was at first all in vain,' said he, 'but no sooner did I begin to pay fellows to make searches for me, than I had two, or maybe three Penthony Morrises every morning by the post; and, what's worse, all alive and hearty!'” “What did he do under these distressing circumstances?” asked she, gayly. “He said he 'd give up the search entirely. 'There 's no such bad hunting country,' said he, 'as where there's too many foxes, and so I determined I 'd have no more Penthony Morrises, but just go in for the widow without any more inquiry.'” “And have you heard the plan of his campaign?” asked she. “He has none,--at least, I think not. He trusts to his own attractions and some encouragement formerly held out to him.” “Indiscreet wretch!” said she, laughing; “not but he told the truth there. I remember having given him something like what lawyers call a retainer.” “Such a man might be very troublesome, Loo,” said he, cautiously. “Not a bit of it, papa; he might be very useful, on the contrary. Indeed, I'm' not quite certain that I have not exactly the very service on which to employ him.” “Remember, Loo,” said he, warmly, “he's a shrewd fellow in _his_ way.” “In _his_ way' he is, but _his_ way is not _mine_,” said she, with a saucy toss of the head. “Have you any idea, papa, of what may be the sort of place or employment he looks for? Is he ambitious, or has adversity taught him humility?” “A good deal depends upon the time of the day when one talks to him. Of a morning he is usually downcast and depressed; he 'd go out as a magistrate to the Bahamas or consul to a Poyais republic. Towards dinner-time he grows more difficult and pretentious; and when he has got three or four glasses of wine in, he would n't take less than the Governorship of a colony.” “Then it's of an evening one should see him.” “Nay, I should say not, Loo. I would rather take him at his cheap moment.”