“Of course it is,” I responded cheerfully; “that is why it is going to be so altogether charming. Don't be envious; I will find something mad for you to do, too. One of us is always submitting to the will of the majority; now let us be as individually silly as we like for a week, and then take a long farewell of freakishness and freedom. Let the third volume die in lurid splendour, since there is never to be a fourth.” “There is still Wales,” suggested Francesca. “Too small, Fanny dear, and we could never pronounce the names. Besides, what sort of adventures would be possible to three--I mean, of course, two--persons tied down by marital responsibilities and family cares? Is it the sunset or the reflection of the pink house that is shining on your pink face, Salemina?” “I am extremely warm,” she replied haughtily. “I don't wonder; sitting on the damp grass under a hedge is so stimulating to the circulation!” observed 'young Miss Fan.' Chapter XXVII. The three chatelaines of Devorgilla. 'Have you been at Devorgilla, Have you seen, at Devorgilla, Beauty's train trip o'er the plain,-- The lovely maids of Devorgilla?' Adapted from Edward Lysaght. The next morning the Old Hall dropped like a ripe rowan berry into our very laps. The landlord of the Shamrock Inn directed us thither, and within the hour it belonged to us for the rest of the summer. Miss Peabody, inclined to be severe with me for my desertion, took up her residence at once. It had never been rented before; but Miss Llewellyn-Joyce, the owner, had suddenly determined to visit her sister in London, and was glad to find appreciative and careful tenants. She was taking her own maid with her, and thus only one servant remained, to be rented with the premises, as is frequently the Irish fashion. The Old Hall has not always been managed thus economically, it is easy to see, and Miss Llewellyn-Joyce speaks with the utmost candour of her poverty, as indeed the ruined Irish gentry always do. I well remember taking tea with a family in West Clare where in default of a spoon the old squire stirred his cup with the poker, a proceeding apparently so usual that he never thought of apologising for it as an oddity. The Hall has a lodge, which is a sort of miniature Round Tower, at the entrance gate, and we see nothing for it but to import a brass-buttoned boy from the nearest metropolis, where we must also send for a second maid.