“Have you been long in the capacity of waiter, here.” he asked.

“No, sir,” she replied; “about six months.”

“Do you never keep male waiters in this establishment,” he inquired.

“Oh, yes, sir; Paudeen Gair and I generally act week about.  This is my week, sir, an’ he’s at the plough.”

“And where have you been at service before you came here, my good girl?”

“In Sir Thomas Gourlay’s, sir.”

The stranger could not prevent himself from starting.

“In Sir Thomas Gourlay’s!” he exclaimed.  “And pray in what capacity were you there?”

“I was own maid to Miss Gourlay, sir.”

“To Miss Gourlay! and how did you come to leave your situation with her?”

“When I find you have a right to ask, sir,” she replied, “I will tell you; but not till then.”

“I stand reproved, my good girl,” he said; “I have indeed no right to enter into such inquiries; but I trust I have for those that are more to the purpose.  What have you for dinner?”

“Fish, flesh, and fowl, sir,” she replied, with a peculiar smile, “and a fine fat buck from the deer-park.”

“Well, now,” said he, “that really promises well—­indeed it is more than I expected—­you had no quarrel, I hope, at parting?  I beg your pardon—­a fat buck, you say.  Come, I will have a slice of that.”

“Very well, sir,” she replied; “what else would you wish?”

“To know, my dear, whether Sir Thomas is as severe upon her as—­ahem!—­anything at all you like—­I’m not particular—­only don’t forget a slice of the buck, out of the haunch, my dear; and, whisper, as you and I are likely to become better acquainted—­all in a civil way, of course—­here is a trifle of earnest, as a proof that, if you be attentive, I shall not be ungenerous.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head, and hesitating; “you’re a sly-looking gentleman—­and, if I thought that you had any—­”

“Design, you would say,” he replied; “no—­none, at any rate, that is improper; it is offered in a spirit of good-will and honor, and in such you may fairly accept of it.  So,” he added, as he dropped the money into her hand, “Sir Thomas insisted that you should go?  Hem!—­hem!”

The girl started in her turn, and exclaimed, with a good deal of surprise: 

“Sir Thomas insisted!  How did you come to know that, sir?  I tould you no such thing.”

“Certainly, my dear, you—­a—­a—­hem—­did you not say something to that effect?  Perhaps, however,” he added, apprehensive lest he might have alarmed, or rather excited her suspicions—­“perhaps I was mistaken.  I only imagined, I suppose, that you said something to that effect; but it does not matter—­I have no intimacy with the Gourlays, I assure you—­I think that is what you call them—­and none at all with Sir Thomas—­is not that his name?  Goodby now; I shall take a walk through the town—­how is this you name it?  Ballytrain, I think—­and return at five, when I trust you will have dinner ready.”