"Just so. Lending us L200, when neither of us have a shilling in our pocket, is a very good deed. Don't you think so, Rachel?" "No," said Rachel. "Lord Castlewell is not a fit person to lend me L200 out of his pocket, and I will not have it." "I did not know," said Mr. O'Mahony. "You never know anything, you are such a dear, innocent old father." "There's an end of it then," said he, addressing himself to the lord. He did not look in the least annoyed because his daughter had refused to take the loan, nor had he shown the slightest feeling of any impropriety when there was a question as to her accepting it. "Of course I cannot force it upon you," said Lord Castlewell. "No; a lord cannot do that, even in this country, where lords go for so much. But we are not a whit the less obliged to your lordship. There are proprieties and improprieties which I don't understand. Rachel knows all about them. Such a knowledge comes to a girl naturally, and she chooses either the one or the other, according to her nature. Rachel is a dragon of propriety." "Father, you are a goose," said Rachel. "I am telling his lordship the truth. There is some reason why you should not take the money, and you won't take it. I think it very hard that I should not have been allowed to earn it." "Why were you not allowed?" asked the lord. "Lest the people should be persuaded to rise up against you lords,--which they very soon would do,--and will do. You are right in your generation. The people were paying twenty-five cents a night to come and hear me, and so I was informed that I must not speak to them any more. I had been silenced in Galway before; but then I had spoken about your Queen." "We can't endure that, you know." "So I learn. She's a holy of holies. But I promised to say nothing further about her, and I haven't. I was talking about your Speaker of the House of Commons." "That's nearly as bad," said Lord Castlewell, shaking his head. "A second-rate holy of holies. When I said that he ought to obey certain rules which had been laid down for his guidance, I was told to walk out. 'What may I talk about?' I asked. Then the policeman told me 'the weather.' Even an Englishman is not stupid enough to pay twenty-five cents for that. I am only telling you this to explain why we are so impecunious." "The policeman won't prevent my lending you L200." "Won't he now? There's no knowing what a policeman can't do in this country. They are very good-natured, all the same."