w the "got up" look of the
gentleman from the other side of the water, who seems to know himself
to be much better than his father, and infinitely superior to his
grandfather; who is always ready to make a speech on every occasion,
and who feels himself to be fit company for a Prime Minister as soon
as he has left school. Probably he is. Young Jones was not so; and it
was on account of this deficiency that Rachel prized him. "I'm not
like a young girl myself," she had said to her father, "but I do love
a jolly nice boy. With us at sixteen, they are all but decrepit old
men, and yet they are such little monkeys."

"For a little monkey, what do you think of yourself?" her father had
replied. But the conversation then had not gone any further.

"I know you'll be after me before long," Rachel said to Frank, as
they walked up and down the platform together.

"If I do, I shall ask you to marry me at once," he replied.

"I shall never do that without your father's leave."

"Is that the way they manage things in America?"

"It's the way I shall manage them here," said Rachel. "I'm in the
unfortunate position of having three papas to whom I must attend.
There is papa O'Mahony--"

"You will never be incommoded much by him," he replied.

"He is the least potent of the three, no doubt. Then there is papa
Jones. He is absolutely omnipotent in this matter. He would not let
me come down to Castle Morony for fear I should contaminate you all.
I obeyed without even daring to feel the slightest snub, and if I
were married to-morrow, I should kiss his toe in token of respect,
and with a great deal more affection than I should kiss your
half-bearded lips, sir." Here Frank got a hold of her hand beneath
his arm, and gave it a squeeze. "He is the real old-fashioned father
in the play, who is expected to come out at last with a hundred
thousand dollars and his blessing."

"And who is the third papa?"

"Don't you know? Mahomet M. Moss. He is the third papa--if only he
would consent to remain in that comparatively humble position." Here
Frank listened to her words with sharp ears, but he said nothing at
the moment. "Mahomet M. Moss is at any rate my lord and master for
the present."

"Not whilst I am alive," said Frank.

"But he is. There is no use in rebelling. You are not my lord and
master until you have gone through a certain ceremony. I wish you
were. Will that satisfy you?"

"There is something in the name of lord and mas