In the kitchen, a great dinner was dressing for Mr. Garraghty’s friends, who were to make merry with him when the business of the day was over. “Where’s the keys of the cellar, till I get out the claret for after dinner,” says one; “and the wine for the cook--sure there’s venison,” cries another.--“Venison!--That’s the way my lord’s deer goes,” says a third, laughing.--“Ay, sure! and very proper, when he’s not here to eat ‘em.”--“Keep your nose out of the kitchen, young man, if you _plase_,” said the agent’s cook, shutting the door in Lord Colambre’s face. “There’s the way to the office, if you’ve money to pay, up the back stairs.” “No; up the grand staircase they must,--Mr. Garraghty ordered,” said the footman; “because the office is damp for him, and it’s not there he’ll see any body to-day; but in my lady’s dressing-room.” So up the grand staircase they went, and through the magnificent apartments, hung with pictures of great value, spoiling with damp. “Then, isn’t it a pity to see them? There’s my lady, and all spoiling,” said the widow. Lord Colambre stopped before a portrait of Miss Nugent--“Shamefully damaged!” cried he. “Pass on, or let me pass, if you _plase_,” said one of the tenants; “and don’t be stopping the door-way.” “I have business more nor you with the agent,” said the surveyor; “where is he?” “In the _presence-chamber_,” replied another: “Where should the viceroy be but in the _presence-chamber_?” There was a full levee, and fine smell of great coats.--“Oh! would you put your hats on the silk cushions?” said the widow to some men in the doorway, who were throwing off their greasy hats on a damask sofa. “Why not? where else?” “If the lady was in it, you wouldn’t,” said she, sighing. “No, to be sure, I wouldn’t: great news! would I make no _differ_ in the presence of Old Nick and my lady?” said he, in Irish. “Have I no sense or manners, good woman, think ye?” added he, as he shook the ink out of the pen on the Wilton carpet, when he had finished signing his name to a paper on his knee. “You may wait long before you get to the speech of the great man,” said another, who was working his way through numbers. They continued pushing forward, till they came within sight of Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, seated in state; and a worse countenance, or a more perfect picture of an insolent, petty tyrant in office, Lord Colambre had never beheld. We forbear all further detail of this levee. “It’s all the same!” as Lord Colambre repeated to himself, on every fresh instance of roguery or oppression to which he was witness; and having completely made up his mind on the subject, he sat down quietly in the back-ground, waiting till it should come to the widow’s turn to be dealt with, for he was now interested only to see how she would be treated. The room gradually thinned I Mr. Dennis Garraghty came in, and sat down at the table, to help his brother to count the heaps of gold.