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"Lies! Oh, fie!" says Doatie. "Who tells lies? Nobody, except the naughty little boys in tracts, and they always break their legs off apple-trees, or else get drowned on a Sunday morning. Now, we are not drowned, and our legs are uninjured. No, a lie is a horrid thing,—so low, and in such wretched taste. But there are little social fibs that may be uttered,—little taradiddles,—that do no harm to anybody, and that nobody believes in, but all pretend to, just for the sake of politeness.",

As she comes to the gravel walk that leads from the shrubberies to the sweep before the hall door, she encounters the disgraced Ridgway, doing something or other to one of the shrubs that has come to grief during the late bad weather.,

There is a smile upon her lips; her hands are clasped behind her.,

"They didn't get on for long," he says, mournfully,—and what voice is so full of melancholy as the Irish voice when it sinks into sadness? "When the little one—Mona—was barely five years old, they went to ground; Mount Jerome got them. Fever it was; and it carried 'em both off just while ye'd have time to look round ye. Poor souls, they went to the blessed land together. Perhaps the Holy Virgin knew they would have got on badly without each other anywhere."

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"It was a feeble effort," declares he, contemptuously striking with his cane the trunks of the trees as he goes by them.,

But hark! What is this that greets her ear? The ring of horse's feet upon the quiet road!,

Of course everybody that is anybody has called on the new Mrs. Rodney. The Duchess of Lauderdale who is an old friend of Lady Rodney's, and who is spending the winter at her country house to please her son the young duke, who is entertaining a houseful of friends, is almost the first to come. And Lady Lillias Eaton, the serious and earnest-minded young æsthetic,—than whom nothing can be more coldly and artistically correct according to her own school,—is perhaps the second: but to both, unfortunately, Mona is "not at home.",

"The names are original, at all events," says Geoffrey,—"which is a great charm. One gets so tired of 'Rags and Tatters,' 'Beer and Skittles,' 'Cakes and Ale,' and so forth, where pairs are in question, whether they be dogs or ponies."