and that he 'll put us all to
inconvenience."

"Oh, we'll have room enough for every one," cried my father.

"I do hope, at least, none will go away for want of--how you say,
place?" said my mother.

"That's exactly the right word for it," cried MacNaghten, slyly. "'Tis
looking for places the half of them are. I've said nothing of the
ladies, Rutledge; for of course your courtly habits see no party
distinctions amongst the fair sex. We'll astonish your English notions,
I fancy, with such a display of Irish beauty as you 've no idea of."

"That we can appreciate without the slightest disparagement on the score
of politics."

"Need you tell him of Polly?" whispered my father in Dan's ear.

"No; it's just as well not." "I'd tell him, Dan; the thing is done, and
cannot be undone," continued he, in the same undertone.

"As you please."

"We mean to show you such a girl, Rutledge, as probably not St. James's
itself could match. When I tell you she 'll have not very far from half
a million sterling, I think it's not too much to say that your English
Court has n't such a prize in the wheel."

"It 's Westrop's daughter you mean?"

"Not a bit of it, man. Dorothy won't have fifty thousand. I doubt
greatly if she 'll have thirty; and as to look, style, and figure, she's
not to compare with the girl I mean."

"The Lady Lucy Lighton? and she is very beautiful, I confess."

"Lucy Lighton! Why, what are you thinking of? Where would she get the
fortune I am speaking of? But you'd never guess the name; you never saw
her,--perhaps never so much as heard of her. She is a Miss Fagan."

"Polly--Polly Fagan, the Grinder's daughter?"

"So, then, you have heard of her?" said Dan, not a little disconcerted
by this burst of intelligence.

"Heard of her! Nay, more, I've seen and spoken with her. I once made a
descent on the old father, in the hope of doing something with him;
and being accidentally, I believe it was, shown upstairs, I made Miss
Polly's acquaintance, but with just as little profit."

"You'll have more time to improve the intimacy here, Rutledge," said my
father, laughingly, "if MacNaghten be not a rival 'near the throne.'"

"I'll not interfere with you, Barry," cried MacNaghten, carelessly.

Rutledge gave one of his usual unmeaning laughs, and said, "After all,
if we except Ffrench and Curtis, there's nothing to be afraid of; and I
suppose there will be no difficulty in keeping them at a safe distance."

"Bo