by the time you've improved the points so that no one would recognise
them for the same, your relations won't give you a hearing. It's a
curious thing, when you think of it, that you get so exhausted with
other people's stories, while you go on laughing at your own. Bridgie
says you'll find fifty people to cry with you, for one who will
sympathise about jokes. Have you found it that way in your experience?"

"Upon my word," cried the Duchess with unction, "this Bridgie appears to
be a remarkably sensible young woman! My experience has been that I
rarely meet a joke that is not my own exclusive property, to judge by
the faces of my companions. Do you happen to possess a name, my
youthful philosopher? I should like to know to whom I am talking."

"I'm Pixie O'Shaughnessy, and Geoffrey married my sister Esmeralda. He
came over to Ireland and fell in love with her in spite of me telling
him about her bad temper, thinking of course that he was a perfect
stranger. I apologised to him after it was settled and said there was
nothing really wrong with her, for she'd always rather be pleasant than
not, only at times it's easier to be nasty, and she's been lazy from her
youth. The night they met they mistook each other for ghosts, and
Esmeralda clung to his arm and screeched for help.

"There was never a thing that girl was frightened at, all her life,
until now, and, would you believe it?--it's her own servants! Of course
in Ireland they were like friends, as free and easy as we were
ourselves, and entering into the conversation at table; but Geoffrey's
Englishmen are so solemn and proper that she lives in terror of shocking
their feelings. One day the butler found her kissing Geoffrey,
believing they were alone, and she waited for him to say, `Allow me,
madam!' as he always does if she ventures to do a hand's turn for
herself. She's says it's dispiriting to think you can't even quarrel in
peace for fear of interruption, and it takes a good deal to interrupt
Esmeralda when once she's started."

The Duchess screwed up her bright little eyes, and her shoulders shook
beneath her black lace cape. Sylvia and her companion, watching the
strangely assorted pair from across the room, saw Pixie move nearer and
nearer, and whisper a long dramatic history; saw the Duchess nod her
head in appreciation of the various points, and heard the burst of
laughter which greeted the _denouement_. Everyone stopped talking and
stared wi