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"Yes, blue looks very nice on me. Geoffrey, if Uncle Brian hears of this, will he be angry?" "Yes, I know it," says Geoffrey. And so it is arranged. And that evening Geoffrey indites a letter to Mrs. Manning, Grafton Street, Dublin, that brings a smile to the lips of that cunning modiste..

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"Thank you," says Geoffrey, a little dryly, accepting her words as they are said, not as he feels they are meant. "Well said!" cries the old man from the chimney-corner, slapping his knee with delight; "well said, indeed! It reminds me of the ould days when we'd swear to any lie to please the lass we loved. Ay, very good, very good." Mrs. Geoffrey, thus addressed, rouses herself, and says, "What can I do for you?" in a far-away tone that proves she has been in thought-land miles away from every one. Through her brain some words are surging. Her mind has gone back to that scene in the conservatory last night when she and Paul Rodney had been together. What was it he had said? What were the exact words he had used? She lays two fingers on her smooth white brow, and lets a little frown—born only of bewildered thought—contract its fairness. "Speak lower," said the old woman, "or you may be heard. We have no good food because there is a great snake here who is the chief of the camp. He takes all the best pieces. He lives over there in that snake-painted lodge.".