“Mamma,” she said, trying by the solemnity of her tone to impress her mother with the absolute necessity she was under of again appealing to her upon the subject, “what are we to do about young men?”

“About young men, my dear?”

“Yes, mamma:  there’ll be a house-full of young ladies—­there’s the Fitzgeralds—­and Lady Louisa Pratt—­and Miss Ellison—­and the three O’Joscelyns—­and not a single young man, except Mr O’Joscelyn’s curate!”

“Well, my dear, I’m sure Mr. Hill’s a very nice young man.”

“So he is, mamma; a very good young man; but he won’t do to amuse such a quantity of girls.  If there were only one or two he’d do very well; besides, I’m sure Adolphus won’t like it.”

“Why; won’t he talk to the young ladies?—­I’m sure he was always fond of ladies’ society.”

“I tell you, mamma, it won’t do.  There’ll be the bishop and two other clergymen, and old Colonel Ellison, who has always got the gout, and Lord George, if he comes—­and I’m sure he won’t.  If you want to make a pleasant party for Adolphus, you must get some young men; besides, you can’t ask all those girls, and have nobody to dance with them or talk to them.”

“I’m sure, my dear, I don’t know what you’re to do.  I don’t know any young men except Mr. Hill; and there’s that young Mr. Grundy, who lives in Dublin.  I promised his aunt to be civil to him:  can’t you ask him down?”

“He was here before, mamma, and I don’t think he liked it.  I’m sure we didn’t.  He didn’t speak a word the whole day he was here.  He’s not at all the person to suit Adolphus.”

“Then, my dear, you must go to your papa, and ask him:  it’s quite clear I can’t make young men.  I remember, years ago, there always used to be too many of them, and I don’t know where they’re all gone to.  At any rate, when they do come, there’ll be nothing for them to eat,” and Lady Cashel again fell back upon her deficiencies in the kitchen establishment.

Lady Selina saw that nothing more could be obtained from her mother, no further intelligence as regarded the embryo party.  The whole burden was to lie on her shoulders, and very heavy she felt it.  As far as concerned herself, she had no particular wish for one kind of guest more than another:  it was not for herself that she wanted young men; she knew that at any rate there were none within reach whom she could condescend to notice save as her father’s guests; there could be no one there whose presence could be to her of any interest:  the gouty colonel, and the worthy bishop, would be as agreeable to her as any other men that would now be likely to visit Grey Abbey.  But Lady Selina felt a real desire that others in the house might be happy while there.  She was no flirt herself, nor had she ever been; it was not in her nature to be so.  But though she herself might be contented to twaddle with old men, she knew that other girls would not.  Yet it was