“Sir Terence O’Fay,” continued Lord Colambre, in a moderated tone, “you are wrong to mention that young lady’s name in such a manner.” “Why then I said only Miss B----, and there are a whole hive of _bees_. But I’ll engage she’d thank me for what I suggested, and think herself the queen bee if my expedient was adopted by you.” “Sir Terence,” said his lordship, smiling, “if my father thinks proper that you should manage his affairs, and devise expedients for him, I have nothing to say on that point; but I must beg you will not trouble yourself to suggest expedients for me, and that you will have the goodness to leave me to settle my own affairs.” Sir Terence made a low bow, and was silent for five seconds; then turning to Lord Clonbrony, who looked much more abashed than he did, “By the wise one, my good lord, I believe there are some men--noblemen, too--that don’t know their friends from their enemies. It’s my firm persuasion, now, that if I had served you as I served my friend I was talking of, your son there would, ten to one, think I had done him an injury by saving the family plate.” “I certainly should, sir. The family plate, sir, is not the first object in my mind,” replied Lord Colambre; “family honour--Nay, Miss Nugent, I must speak,” continued his lordship; perceiving, by her countenance, that she was alarmed. “Never fear, Miss Nugent, dear,” said Sir Terence; “I’m as cool as a cucumber.--Faith! then, my Lord Colambre, I agree with you, that family honour’s a mighty fine thing, only troublesome to one’s self and one’s friends, and expensive to keep up with all the other expenses and debts a gentleman has now-a-days. So I, that am under no natural obligations to it by birth or otherwise, have just stood by it through life, and asked myself, before I would volunteer being bound to it, what could this same family honour do for a man in this world? And, first and foremost, I never remember to see family honour stand a man in much stead in a court of law--never saw family honour stand against an execution, or a custodiam, or an injunction even.--‘Tis a rare thing, this same family honour, and a very fine thing; but I never knew it yet, at a pinch, pay for a pair of boots even,” added Sir Terence, drawing up his own with much complacency. At this moment, Sir Terence was called out of the room by one who wanted to speak to him on particular business. “My dear father,” cried Lord Colambre, “do not follow him; stay, for one moment, and hear your son, your true friend.” Miss Nugent left the room. “Hear your natural friend for one moment,” cried Lord Colambre. “Let me beseech you, father, not to have recourse to any of these paltry expedients, but trust your son with the state of your affairs, and we shall find some honourable means--”