amativeness."

"That's it," said Mrs. Gubbins; "they call it number one, sometimes; I
suppose amativeness is Latin for number one. Now, what does that bump
mean?"

"Ah, madam," said the doctor, puzzled for a moment to give an
explanation; but in a few seconds he answered, "That's a beautiful
provision of nature. That, ma'am, is the organ which makes your sex
take compassion on ours."[28]

[28] This very ingenious answer was really given by an Irish
professor to an over-inquisitive lady.

"Wonderful!" said Mrs. Gubbins; "but how good nature is in giving us
provision! and I don't think there is a finer provision county in
Ireland than this."

"Certainly not, ma'am," said the doctor;--but the moment Mrs. Gubbins
began to speak of provisions, he was sure she would get into a very
solid discourse about her own farms; so he left his seat beside her and
went over to Mrs. Riley, to see what fun could be had in that quarter.

Her daughter was cutting all sorts of barefaced capers about the room,
"astonishing the natives," as she was pleased to say; and Growling was
looking on in amused wonder at this specimen of vulgar effrontery, whom
he had christened "The Brazen Baggage" the first time he saw her.

"You are looking at my daughter, sir," said the delighted mother.

"Yes, ma'am," said the doctor, profoundly.

"She's very young, sir."

"She'll mend of that, ma'am. We were young once ourselves."

This was not very agreeable to the mother, who dressed rather in a
juvenile style.

"I mean, sir, that you must excuse any little awkwardness about
her--that all arises out of timidity--she was lost with bashfulness
till I roused her out of it--but now I think she is beginning to have a
little self-possession."

The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of snuff; he enjoyed the
phase "_beginning_ to have a _little_ self-possession" being applied to
the most brazen baggage he ever saw.

"She's very accomplished, sir," continued the mother. "Mister Jew-val
(Duval) taitches her dancin', and Musha Dunny-ai (Mons. Du Noyer)[29]
French. Misther Low-jeer (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academy
on the pianya; and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave a
sthring in it."

[29] My own worthy and excellent master, to whom I gladly pay this
tribute of kindly remembrance.

"She must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am," said the doctor.

"'Faith, you may well say _threasure_, it costs