The countess groaned and sighed—“There’s the list there, Selina, which your father put down in pencil. You know the people as well as I do: just ask them all—” “But, mamma, I’m not to ask them all to stay here:—I suppose some are only to come to dinner?—the O’Joscelyns, and the Parchments?” “Ask the O’Joscelyns for Wednesday and Thursday: the girls might as well stay and sleep here. But what’s the good of writing to them?—can’t you drive over to the Parsonage and settle it all there?—you do nothing but make difficulties, Selina, and my head’s racking.” Lady Selina sate silent for a short time, conning the list, and endeavouring to see her way through the labyrinth of difficulties which was before her, without further trouble to her mother; while the countess leaned back, with her eyes closed, and her hands placed on the arms of her chair, as though she were endeavouring to get some repose, after the labour she had gone through. Her daughter, however, again disturbed her. “Mamma,” she said, trying by the solemnity of her tone to impress her mother with the absolute necessity she was under of again appealing to her upon the subject, “what _are_ we to do about young men?” “About young men, my dear?” “Yes, mamma: there’ll be a house-full of young ladies—there’s the Fitzgeralds—and Lady Louisa Pratt—and Miss Ellison—and the three O’Joscelyns—and not a single young man, except Mr O’Joscelyn’s curate!” “Well, my dear, I’m sure Mr. Hill’s a very nice young man.” “So he is, mamma; a very good young man; but he won’t do to amuse such a quantity of girls. If there were only one or two he’d do very well; besides, I’m sure Adolphus won’t like it.” “Why; won’t he talk to the young ladies?—I’m sure he was always fond of ladies’ society.” “I tell you, mamma, it won’t do. There’ll be the bishop and two other clergymen, and old Colonel Ellison, who has always got the gout, and Lord George, if he comes—and I’m sure he won’t. If you want to make a pleasant party for Adolphus, you must get some young men; besides, you can’t ask all those girls, and have nobody to dance with them or talk to them.” “I’m sure, my dear, I don’t know what you’re to do. I don’t know any young men except Mr. Hill; and there’s that young Mr. Grundy, who lives in Dublin. I promised his aunt to be civil to him: can’t you ask him down?” “He was here before, mamma, and I don’t think he liked it. I’m sure we didn’t. He didn’t speak a word the whole day he was here. He’s not at all the person to suit Adolphus.” “Then, my dear, you _must_ go to your papa, and ask him: it’s quite clear I can’t make young men. I remember, years ago, there always used to be too many of them, and I don’t know where they’re all gone to. At any rate, when they do come, there’ll be nothing for them to eat,” and Lady Cashel again fell back upon her deficiencies in the kitchen establishment.