Before he was well aware of it, young Nelligan found himself in the very midst of this gathering, whose mirthful accents suddenly subsided at his approach, and an air of constraint and reserve seemed to take their place. Never very quick to appreciate such indications, he drew nigh to a very lofty “conveniency” in which, with an air of stately dignity, Mrs. Cronan sat enthroned on a backgammon-table, with a portentous-looking cap-case in her lap. “My mother will be sorry not to have seen you before you went away, Mrs. Cronan,” said he to that lady, whose demure and frigid demeanor made the speech sound like a bold one. “I 'd have left my card and my compliments, sir, if I wasn't so pressed for time,” responded she, with a haughty gravity. “With P. P. C. on the corner,” said the Captain from his pony-gig alongside; “which means, pour prendre 'congo,' or 'congee,' I never knew which.” “She 'll be very lonely now, for the few days we remain,” resumed Joe, conscious of some awkwardness, without knowing where or how. “Not with the society of your distinguished acquaintances at 'The Nest,' sir!” the sarcastic import of which reply was more in the manner than the mere words; while the old Captain murmured,-- “Begad, she gave it to him there,--a regular double-headed shot!” “We hope to follow you by the end of the week,” said Nelligan, trying to seem at ease. “If you can tear yourselves away, I suppose,” said Miss Busk, through a double veil of blue gauze; for that lady's auburn ringlets reposed at the moment in the small mahogany casket beside her. “There is not much attraction in the spot just now,” said Joseph, smiling. “Not for the like of us, perhaps, sir,” retorted Mrs. Cronan,--“not for persons in our station; but your fashionable people, I believe, always prefer a place when the vulgar company have left it.” “Good again,--grape and canister!” chuckled out the Captain, who seemed to derive a high enjoyment from the scene. “Would you move a little to one side, Mr. Nelligan?” said the doctor; “my pony won't stand.” “Oh, he's mettlesome,” said Joe, good-humoredly, as he stepped out of the way. “That he is, sir, though he never was leader in a four-in-hand; but, you see, poor creatures of quadrupeds forget themselves down here, just like their betters!” And the success of this sally was acknowledged by a general laugh from the company. The tone of the speakers, even more than their words, convinced Joseph that, from some cause or other, he was the object of their sarcasms; and although slow to take offence,--even to the verge of what many might have called an unfeeling indifference,--he felt their treatment most acutely. It was, then, in something like a haughty defiance that he wished them a careless good-bye, and continued his way.