“I’ll tell you what I was thinking, my lady; only I don’t know whether your ladyship would like it, either, and if you didn’t you could easily get rid of him when all these people are gone.”

“Get rid of who?”

“I was going to say, my lady—­if your ladyship would consent to have a man cook for a time, just to try.”

“Then I never will, Griffiths:  there’d be no peace in the house with him!”

“Well, your ladyship knows best, in course; only if you thought well of trying it, of course you needn’t keep the man; and I know there’s Murray in Dublin, that was cook so many years to old Lord Galway.  I know he’s to be heard of at the hotel in Grafton Street.”

“I can’t bear the thoughts of a man cook, Griffiths:  I’d sooner have three women cooks, and I’m sure one’s enough to plague anybody.”

“But none’s worse, my lady,” said Griffiths.

“You needn’t tell me that.  I wonder, Selina, if I were to write to my sister, whether she could send me over anything that would answer?”

“What, from London, my lady?” answered Griffiths—­“You’d find a London woman cook sent over in that way twice worse than any man:  she’d be all airs and graces.  If your ladyship thought well of thinking about Murray, Richards would do very well under him:  she’s a decent poor creature, poor woman—­only she certainly is not a cook that’d suit for such a house as this; and it was only impudence her thinking to attempt it.”

“But, mamma,” said Lady Selina, “do let me know to whom I am to write, and then you and Griffiths can settle about the cook afterwards; the time is so very short that I ought not to lose a post.”

The poor countess threw herself back in her easy chair, the picture of despair.  Oh, how much preferable were rolls of worsted and yards of netting, to the toils and turmoil of preparing for, and entertaining company!  She was already nearly overcome by the former:  she didn’t dare to look forward to the miseries of the latter.  She already began to feel the ill effects of her son’s reformation, and to wish that it had been postponed just for a month or two, till she was a little more settled.

“Well, mamma,” said Lady Selina, as undisturbed and calm as ever, and as resolved to do her duty without flinching, “shall we go on?”

The countess groaned and sighed—­“There’s the list there, Selina, which your father put down in pencil.  You know the people as well as I do:  just ask them all—­”

“But, mamma, I’m not to ask them all to stay here:—­I suppose some are only to come to dinner?—­the O’Joscelyns, and the Parchments?”

“Ask the O’Joscelyns for Wednesday and Thursday:  the girls might as well stay and sleep here.  But what’s the good of writing to them?—­can’t you drive over to the Parsonage and settle it all there?—­you do nothing but make difficulties, Selina, and my head’s racking.”

Lady Selina sate silent for a short time, conning the list, and endeavouring to see her way through the labyrinth of difficulties which was before her, without further trouble to her mother; while the countess leaned back, with her eyes closed, and her hands placed on the arms of her chair, as though she were endeavouring to get some repose, after the labour she had gone through.  Her daughter, however, again disturbed her.