s. "You
know him better than any of us, and how the matter can be best touched
upon."

"Not the slightest necessity for that, _now_," said Linton, with a low,
deliberate voice.

"Why so?"

"Because you have just done so yourself. If you had only paid the least
attention to my signal, you 'd have seen that Cashel was only a few
yards in front of me during the entire of your agreeable revelations."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Frobisher, as his head dropped forward in
overwhelming confusion; "what is to be done?"

"Rather difficult to say, if he heard all," said Linton, coolly.

"You 'd say it was a quiz, Tom. _You 'd_ pretend that you saw him all
the while, and only did the thing for joke's sake, eh?"

"Possibly enough I might," replied Linton; "but _you_ could n't."

"How very awkward, to be sure!" exclaimed Frobisher. "I say, Jim, I wish
you 'd make up to Cashel a bit, and get us out of this scrape. There's
Tom ready to aid and abet you, if only to take him out of the Kilgoffs'
way."

"There never was a more propitious moment, Miss Meek,'" said Linton,
passing through the hedge, and approaching close to her. "He's a great
prize,--the best estate in Ireland."

"The nicest stable of horses in the whole country," echoed Frobisher.

"A good-looking fellow, too; only wanting a little training to make
presentable anywhere."

"That white barb, with the flea-bitten flank, would carry you to
perfection, Jim."

"He 'll be a peer one of these days, if he is only patient enough not to
commit himself in politics."

"And such a hunting country for _you_," said Frobisher, in ecstasy.

"I tell you I don't care for him; I never did," said the girl, as a
flush of half-angry meaning colored her almost childish features.

"But don't you care to be mistress of fifteen thousand a year, and the
finest stud in Ireland?"

"Mayhap a countess," said Linton, quietly. "Your papa would soon manage
that."

"I 'd rather be mistress of myself, and this brown mare, Joan,
here,--that's all I know; and I'll have nothing to do with any of your
plots and schemes," said she, in a voice whose utterance was that of
emotion.

"That's it," said Frobisher, in a low tone to Linton; "there's no
getting them, at that age, with a particle of brains."

"They make up surprisingly for it afterwards," replied Linton, dryly.

"So you 'll not consent, Jim?" said Frobisher, in a half-coaxing manner
to the young girl, who, with averted head, sat in ming