believe
the custom isn't even yet quite extinct.'

'And are there no other beaux in the county? Does that exhaust the
list?'

'Oh! no; but there's something against them all. There are a few
landlords who live away, and of whom nobody knows anything. Then there
are some boys at school; but they are too young; there is Mr. Reed, the
dispensary doctor. Mr. Burke has only two hundred a year; but if his
brother were to die he would be the Marquis of Kilcarney. He'd be a
great match then, in point of position; but I hear the estates are
terribly encumbered.'

'Has the present Marquis no children?' said Alice.

'He's not married,' said Mrs. Gould; 'he's a confirmed old bachelor.
Just fancy, there's twenty years between the brothers. I remember, in
old times, the present Marquis used to be the great beau at the Castle.
I don't believe there was a girl in Dublin who didn't have a try at him.
Then who else is there? I suppose I daren't mention the name of Mr. Fred
Scully, or May will fly at me.'

'No, mother dear, I won't fly at you; but what is the use of abusing
Fred?--we have known him all our lives. If he has spent his money he has
done no worse than a hundred other young men. I know I can't marry him,
and I am not in love with him; but I must amuse myself with something. I
can't sit here all day listening to you lamenting over the Land League;
and, after a certain number of hours, conjecturing whether Mickey Moran
will or will not pay his rent becomes monotonous.'

'Now don't vex me, May; for I won't stand it,' said Mrs. Gould, getting
angry. 'When you ask me for a new dress you don't think of what you are
saying now. It was only the other day you were speaking to me of
refurnishing this room. I should like to know how that's to be done if
there was no one to look after Mickey Moran's rent?'

The girls looked round the large, dull room. Emaciated forms of narrow,
antique sofas were seen dimly in the musty-smelling twilight. Screens
worked in red and green wools stood in the vicinity of the fireplace,
the walls were lined with black pictures, and the floor, hidden in dark
shadow and sunken in places, conveyed an instant idea of damp and
mildew.

'I think that something ought to be done,' said May. 'Just look at these
limp curtains! Did you ever see anything so dreary? Are they brown, or
red, or chocolate?'

'They satisfied your betters,' said Mrs. Gould, as she lighted her
bedroom candle. 'Goodness me!' she adde