hen see if you can break down the door; try hard, and if you succeed I
will buy you a nice new one! Part of Miss Peabody's dress is inside the
room, and we shall be late to the Castle dinner."

The entire corps, with Mrs. Waterford of Mullinavat on top, cast itself
on the door, which withstood the shock to perfection. Then in a moment
we heard: "Weary's on it, it will not come down for us, ma'am. It's the
iligant locks we do be havin' in the house; they're mortial shtrong,
ma'am!"

"Strong, indeed!" exclaimed the incensed Benella, in a burst of New
England wrath. "There's nothing strong about the place but the impidence
of the people in it! If you had told Peter to get a carpenter or a
locksmith, as I've been asking you these two weeks, it would have been
all right; but you never do anything till a month after it's too late.
I've no patience with such a set of doshies, dawdling around and leaving
everything to go to rack and ruin!"

"Sure it was yourself that ruinated the thing," responded Molly, with
spirit, for the unaccustomed word 'doshy' had kindled her quick Irish
temper. "It's aisy handlin' the knob is used to, and faith it would 'a'
stuck there for you a twelvemonth!"

"They will be quarrelling soon," said Salemina nervously. "Do not wait
another instant; you are late enough now, and I insist on your going.
Make any excuse you see fit: say I am ill, say I am dead, if you like,
but don't tell the real excuse--it is too shiftless and wretched and
embarrassing. Don't cry, Benella. Molly, Oonah, go downstairs to your
work. Mrs. Waterford, I think perhaps you have forgotten that we have
already purchased raffle tickets, and we'll not take any more for fear
that we may draw the necklace. Good-bye, dears; tell Lady Killbally I
shall see her to-morrow."

Chapter XV. Penelope weaves a web.

'Why the shovel and tongs
To each other belongs,
And the kettle sings songs
Full of family glee,
While alone with your cup,
Like a hermit you sup,
Och hone, Widow Machree.'
Samuel Lover.

Francesca and I were gloomy enough, as we drove along facing each other
in Ballyfuchsia's one 'inside-car'--a strange and fearsome vehicle,
partaking of the nature of a broken-down omnibus, a hearse, and an
overgrown black beetle. It holds four, or at a squeeze six, the seats
being placed from stem to stern lengthwise, and the balance being so
delicate that the passenger