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"Yes, if it is fine," says Mona, after a faint hesitation. To Geoffrey perhaps the coming ordeal bears a deeper shade; as Mona hardly understands all that awaits her. That Lady Rodney is a little displeased at her son's marriage she can readily believe, but that she has made up her mind beforehand to dislike her, and intends waging with her war to the knife, is more than has ever entered into her gentle mind. "I'm ready now, miss, if you are," says Mickey from the background, with the utmost bonhommie, and in a tone that implies he is quite willing not to be ready, if it so pleases her, for another five minutes or so, or even, if necessary, to efface himself altogether. He is a stalwart young Hibernian, with rough hair and an honest face, and gray eyes, merry and cunning, and so many freckles that he looks like a turkey-egg..

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But Mona in such a case as this prefers being "taken in" (though she may object to the phrase), and in process of time grows positively fond of Lady Rodney. "Did I say all that?" asks Mrs. Geoffrey, with wide eyes. "Indeed, I think you mistake. Old people have wrinkles, and they do not talk as you do. And when one is sweet to look at, one is never old." A sob escapes her, and falls heavily on Geoffrey's heart. He is not proof against a woman's tears,—as no true man ever is,—especially her tears, and so he gives in at once. "She has reason," says the old man, earnestly and approvingly, rounding his sentence after the French fashion, as the Irish so often will: "she has said it," he goes on, "she always does say it; she has brains, has my colleen. Ye don't stir out of this house to-night, Mr. Rodney; so make up yer mind to it. With Tim Ryan abroad, an' probably picked up and carried home by this time, the counthry will be all abroad, an' no safe thravellin' for man or baste. Here's a cosey sate for ye by the fire: sit down, lad, an' take life aisy.".