o heathenism; so where, Rashe?'

'Wouldn't it be fun to look into a Roman Catholic affair?'

'No,' said Cilly, decidedly; 'where I go it shall be the genuine article.
I don't like curiosities in religion.'

'It's a curiosity to go to church at twelve o'clock! If you are so
orthodox, let us wait for St. Patrick's this afternoon.'

'And in the meantime? It is but eleven this minute, and St. Patrick's is
not till three. There's nothing to be done but to watch Irish nature in
the street. Oh! I never before knew the perfection of Carleton's
illustration. See that woman and her cap, and the man's round eyebrows
and projecting lips with shillelagh written on them. Would it be
Sabbath-breaking to perpetrate a sketch?'

But as Ratia was advancing to the window, Lucy suddenly started back,
seized her and whirled her away, crying, 'The wretch! I know him now! I
could not make him out last night.'

'Who?' exclaimed Rashe, starting determinedly to the window, but detained
by the two small but resolute hands clasped round her waist.

'That black-whiskered valet of Mr. Calthorp's. If that man has the
insolence to dog me and spy me, I'll not stay in Ireland another day.'

'Oh, what fun!' burst out Horatia. 'It becomes romantic!'

'Atrocious impertinence!' said Lucilla, passionately. 'Why do you stand
there laughing?'

'At you, my dear,' gasped Ratia, sinking on the sofa in her spasm of
mirth. 'At your reception of chivalrous devotion.'

'Pretty chivalry to come and spy and beset ladies alone.'

'He has not beset us yet. Don't flatter yourself!'

'What do you mean by that, Horatia?'

'Do you want to try your pistols on me? The waiter could show us the way
to the Fifteen Acres, only you see it is Sunday.'

'I want,' said Lucy, all tragedy and no comedy, 'to know why you talk of
my _flattering_ myself that I am insulted, and my plans upset.'

'Why?' said Rashe, a little sneeringly. 'Why, a little professed beauty
like you would be so disappointed not to be pursued, that she is obliged
to be always seeing phantoms that give her no peace.'

'Thank you,' coolly returned Cilly. 'Very well, I'll say no more about
it, but if I find that man to be in Ireland, the same day I go home!'

Horatia gave a loud, long, provoking laugh. Lucilla felt it was for her
dignity to let the subject drop, and betook herself to the only volumes
attainable, Bradshaw and her book of flies; while Miss Charteris repaired
to the win