sfied with the state of things.

"I suppose he was there?" said Mrs. Townsend.

"Oh, yes, he was there. He is never away, I take it, when there
is any talking to be done." Now Mr. Townsend dearly loved to hear
himself talk, but no man was louder against the sins of other
orators. And then he began to ask how many minutes it wanted to
dinner-time.

Mrs. Townsend knew his ways. She would not have a ghost of a chance
of getting from him a true and substantial account of what had really
passed if she persevered in direct questions to the effect. So
she pretended to drop the matter, and went and fetched her lord's
slippers, the putting on of which constituted his evening toilet; and
then, after some little hurrying inquiry in the kitchen, promised him
his dinner in fifteen minutes.

"Was Herbert Fitzgerald there?"

"Oh yes; he is always there. He's a nice young fellow; a very fine
young fellow; but--"

"But what?"

"He thinks he understands the Irish Roman Catholics, but he
understands them no more than--than--than this slipper," he said,
having in vain cudgelled his brain for a better comparison.

"You know what Aunt Letty says about him. She doubts he isn't quite
right, you know."

Mrs. Townsend by this did not mean to insinuate that Herbert was at
all afflicted in that way which we attempt to designate, when we
say that one of our friends is not all right, and at the same time
touch our heads with our forefinger. She had intended to convey an
impression that the young man's religious ideas were not exactly of
that stanch, true-blue description which she admired.

"Well, he has just come from Oxford, you know," said Mr. Townsend:
"and at the present moment Oxford is the most dangerous place to
which a young man can be sent."

"And Sir Thomas would send him there, though I remember telling his
aunt over and over again how it would be." And Mrs. Townsend as she
spoke, shook her head sorrowfully.

"I don't mean to say, you know, that he's absolutely bitten."

"Oh, I know--I understand. When they come to crosses and
candlesticks, the next step to the glory of Mary is a very easy one.
I would sooner send a young man to Rome than to Oxford. At the one he
might be shocked and disgusted; but at the other he is cajoled, and
cheated, and ruined." And then Mrs. Townsend threw herself back in
her chair, and threw her eyes up towards the ceiling.

But there was no hypocrisy or pretence in this expression of her
feel