That day was destined to be one of contrarieties to the household of Tubbermore. Of the Kennyfeck family, none appeared at dinner. Lady Kilgoff, angry at Roland's breach of engagement,--for, although he rode at top speed in every direction, he never overtook her,--also kept her room. The carriage sent for Miss Leicester had returned without her, a somewhat formal note of apology stating that Mr. Corrigan was indisposed, and his granddaughter unwilling to leave him; while Linton, usually a main feature in all the social success of a dinner, was still absent. Of the assembled guests, too, few were in their wonted spirits. Sir Andrew and Lady Janet had quarrelled in the morning about the mode of preparing dandelion tea, and kept up the dispute all the day; Upton was sulky, dark, and reserved; Meek more than usually lachrymose; Fro-bisher's best mare had been staked in taking a leap, and Miss Meek had never discovered it till half an hour after, so that the lameness was greatly aggravated; Mrs. White had had a “tiff” with the author, for his not believing the Irish to be of Phoenician origin, and would n't speak to him at dinner; so that Cashel himself, constrained, absent, and ill at ease, found his company anything rather than a relief to his own distracted thoughts. Among his other guests he found the same reserve and coldness of manner, so that no sooner had they assembled in the drawing-room, after dinner, than he left the house and set off to inquire for Mr. Corrigan at the cottage. “We had nine vacant places to-day at table,” said Lady Janet, as soon as she had arranged her special table next the fire, with a shade in front and a screen behind her, and was quite satisfied that, in regard to cushions and footstools, she had monopolized the most comfortable in the room. “I thought--aw--that we--aw--were somewhat slow,” said Captain Jennings, with his habitually tiresome, pompous intonation. “What's the matter with Upton?” said a junior officer of his regiment, in a whisper; “he looks so confoundedly put out.” “I'm sure I don't know,” yawned out Lord Charles; “he has a very safe book on the Oaks.” “He's backing Dido at very long odds,” interposed Miss Meek, “and she's weak before, they say.” “Not staked, I hope,” said Frobisher, looking maliciously at her. “I don't care what you say, Charley,” rejoined she; “I defy any one to know whether a horse goes tender, while galloping in deep ground. You are always unjust.” And she moved away in anger. “She _is_ so careless,” said Frobisher, listlessly. “Tell me about these Kennyfecks. What is it all about?” said Mrs. White, bustling up, as if she was resolved on a long confidence. “They hedged against themselves, I hear,” said Frobisher. “Indeed! poor things; and are they much hurt?” “Not seriously, I fancy,” drawled he. “Lady Janet knows it all.”