And having uttered this scientific prediction, which was listened to with the greatest deference by Peter Dillon, the Rev. Joseph Armstrong turned his attention to the ham and tea.

The three ladies were all smiles to meet their guests; Mrs O’Kelly, dressed in a piece of satin turk, came forward to shake hands with the General, but Sophy and Guss kept their positions, beneath the coffee-pot and tea-urn, at each end of the long table, being very properly of opinion that it was the duty of the younger part of the community to come forward, and make their overtures to them.  Bingham Blake, the cynosure on whom the eyes of the beauty of county Mayo were most generally placed, soon found his seat beside Guss, rather to Sophy’s mortification; but Sophy was good-natured, and when Peter Dillon placed himself at her right hand, she was quite happy, though Peter’s father was still alive, and Bingham’s had been dead this many a year and Castletown much in want of a mistress.

“Now, Miss O’Kelly,” said Bingham, “do let me manage the coffee-pot; the cream-jug and sugar-tongs will be quite enough for your energies.”

“Indeed and I won’t, Mr Blake; you’re a great deal too awkward, and a great deal too hungry.  The last hunt-morning you breakfasted here you threw the coffee-grouts into the sugar-basin, when I let you help me.”

“To think of your remembering that!—­but I’m improved since then.  I’ve been taking lessons with my old aunt at Castlebar.”

“You don’t mean you’ve really been staying with Lady Sarah?”

“Oh, but I have, though.  I was there three days; made tea every night; washed the poodle every morning, and clear-starched her Sunday pelerine, with my own hands on Saturday evening.”

“Oh, what a useful animal!  What a husband you’ll make, when you’re a little more improved!”

“Shan’t I?  As you’re so fond of accomplishments, perhaps you’ll take me yourself by-and-by?”

“Why, as you’re so useful, maybe I may.”

“Well, Lambert,” said Lord Ballindine, across the table, to the stingy gentleman with the squint, “are you going to ride hard to-day?”

“I’ll go bail I’m not much behind, my lord,” said Lambert; “if the dogs go, I’ll follow.”

“I’ll bet you a crown, Lambert,” said his cousin, young Brown of Mount Brown, “the dogs kill, and you don’t see them do it.”

“Oh, that may be, and yet I mayn’t be much behind.”

“I’ll bet you’re not in the next field to them.”

“Maybe you’ll not be within ten fields yourself.”

“Come, Lambert, I’ll tell you what—­we’ll ride together, and I’ll bet you a crown I pound you before you’re over three leaps.”

“Ah, now, take it easy with yourself,” said Lambert; “there are others ride better than you.”

“But no one better than yourself; is that it, eh?”

“Well, Jerry, how do the new articles fit?” said Nicholas Dillon.