“What did he say to ye? and what did me Lady Caroline say to ye? and were they all wild over yer beautiful voice, me honey?” said the old lady. “Come, take off your hat, me pet, and ye shall have the best cup o’ tea in the Abbey. And tell me all about it,” she said. “I have had a cup of tea, thank you,” said Lottie. “Oh, yes, they are all nice enough. Nobody talked to me--but then, I didn’t expect them to talk to me. They wanted me to sing--and I sang; and that was all.” “And what more would you have, me jewel?” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. “Now, you take my advice, Lottie. I’m old, and I know the world. Take what you can get, me dear, and wait till your time comes. Don’t go and take offence and throw up the cards, and lose all you’ve got for a tantrum. Tantrums pass off, but life goes on. If they don’t speak to you, it’s their loss, for you have a clever little tongue o’ your own. And you’ll not be long there till they find out that. Don’t say a word, me honey. I’ll not bother you; but never take offence with the gentry----” “The gentry!” cried the girl furious, starting to her feet. “I am as much a lady as any of them--and more, for I would not be such---- I would not be unkind----” “Well--well--well! There, I have put my foot in it!” said the old lady. “I was thinking of meself, me dear, as if ye were a girl of my own. But you _are_ a lady, honey; one has but to look at you,” said the astute old woman; “and just you wait a bit, and all will come as it ought--sure, I know it will.”