Mr. O’Neill was not without his share of pride and proper spirit; nay, he had, it must be confessed, in common with some others of his countrymen, an improper share of pride and spirit.  Fired by the lady’s coldness, he poured forth a volley of reproaches; and ended by wishing, as he said, a good morning, for ever and ever, to one who could change her opinion, point blank, like the weathercock.  “I am, miss, your most obedient; and I expect you’ll never think no more of poor Brian O’Neill and the Limerick gloves.”

If he had not been in too great a passion to observe anything, poor Brian O’Neill would have found out that Phoebe was not a weathercock:  but he left her abruptly, and hurried away, imagining all the while that it was Phoebe, and not himself, who was in a rage.  Thus, to the horseman who is galloping at full speed, the hedges, trees, and houses seem rapidly to recede, whilst, in reality, they never move from their places.  It is he that flies from them, and not they from him.

On Monday morning Miss Jenny Brown, the perfumer’s daughter, came to pay Phoebe a morning visit, with face of busy joy.

“So, my dear!” said she:  “fine doings in Hereford!  But what makes you look so downcast?  To be sure you are invited, as well as the rest of us.”

“Invited where?” cried Mrs. Hill, who was present, and who could never endure to hear of an invitation in which she was not included.  “Invited where, pray, Miss Jenny?”

“La! have not you heard?  Why, we all took it for granted that you and Miss Phoebe would have been the first and foremost to have been asked to Mr. O’Neill’s ball.”

“Ball!” cried Mrs. Hill; and luckily saved Phoebe, who was in some agitation, the trouble of speaking.  “Why, this is a mighty sudden thing:  I never heard a tittle of it before.”

“Well, this is really extraordinary!  And, Phoebe, have you not received a pair of Limerick gloves?”

“Yes, I have,” said Phoebe, “but what then?  What have my Limerick gloves to do with the ball?”

“A great deal,” replied Jenny.  “Don’t you know that a pair of Limerick gloves is, as one may say, a ticket to this ball? for every lady that has been asked has had a pair sent to her along with the card; and I believe as many as twenty, besides myself, have been asked this morning.”

Jenny then produced her new pair of Limerick gloves, and as she tried them on, and showed how well they fitted, she counted up the names of the ladies who, to her knowledge, were to be at this ball.  When she had finished the catalogue, she expatiated upon the grand preparations which it was said the widow O’Neill, Mr. O’Neill’s mother, was making for the supper, and concluded by condoling with Mrs. Hill for her misfortune in not having been invited.  Jenny took her leave to get her dress in readiness:  “for,” added she, “Mr. O’Neill has engaged me to open the ball in case Phoebe does not go; but I suppose she will cheer up and go, as she has a pair of Limerick gloves as well as the rest of us.”