George, and the want of all proper pedigree on the part of the new Dean of Kilfenora.  The conference ended with an assurance on the part of Lord Tulla that if the Loughshaners chose to elect Mr. Phineas Finn he would not be in the least offended.  The electors did elect Mr. Phineas Finn,—­perhaps for the reason given by one of the Dublin Conservative papers, which declared that it was all the fault of the Carlton Club in not sending a proper candidate.  There was a great deal said about the matter, both in London and Dublin, and the blame was supposed to fall on the joint shoulders of George Morris and his elder brother.  In the meantime, our hero, Phineas Finn, had been duly elected member of Parliament for the borough of Loughshane.

The Finn family could not restrain their triumphings at Killaloe, and I do not know that it would have been natural had they done so.  A gosling from such a flock does become something of a real swan by getting into Parliament.  The doctor had his misgivings,—­had great misgivings, fearful forebodings; but there was the young man elected, and he could not help it.  He could not refuse his right hand to his son or withdraw his paternal assistance because that son had been specially honoured among the young men of his country.  So he pulled out of his hoard what sufficed to pay off outstanding debts,—­they were not heavy,—­and undertook to allow Phineas two hundred and fifty pounds a year as long as the session should last.

There was a widow lady living at Killaloe who was named Mrs. Flood Jones, and she had a daughter.  She had a son also, born to inherit the property of the late Floscabel Flood Jones of Floodborough, as soon as that property should have disembarrassed itself; but with him, now serving with his regiment in India, we shall have no concern.  Mrs. Flood Jones was living modestly at Killaloe on her widow’s jointure,—­Floodborough having, to tell the truth, pretty nearly fallen into absolute ruin,—­and with her one daughter, Mary.  Now on the evening before the return of Phineas Finn, Esq., M.P., to London, Mrs. and Miss Flood Jones drank tea at the doctor’s house.

“It won’t make a bit of change in him,” Barbara Finn said to her friend Mary, up in some bedroom privacy before the tea-drinking ceremonies had altogether commenced.

“Oh, it must,” said Mary.

“I tell you it won’t, my dear; he is so good and so true.”

“I know he is good, Barbara; and as for truth, there is no question about it, because he has never said a word to me that he might not say to any girl.”

“That’s nonsense, Mary.”

“He never has, then, as sure as the blessed Virgin watches over us;—­only you don’t believe she does.”

“Never mind about the Virgin now, Mary.”

“But he never has.  Your brother is nothing to me, Barbara.”

“Then I hope he will be before the evening is over.  He was walking with you all yesterday and the day before.”