‘Won’t you try a cutlet, godmother?’ asked Kate hurriedly.
‘Indeed I will, my dear. I don’t know why I was sending the man away. I never saw this way of dining before, except at the poorhouse, where each poor creature has his plateful given him, and pockets what he can’t eat.’ And here she laughed long and heartily at the conceit.
Kearney’s good-humour relished the absurdity, and he joined in the laugh, while Nina stared at the old woman as an object of dread and terror.
‘And that boy that wouldn’t dine with us. How is he turning out, Mathew? They tell me he’s a bit of a scamp.’
‘He’s no such thing, godmother. Dick is as good a fellow and as right-minded as ever lived, and you yourself would be the first to say it if you saw him,’ cried Kate angrily.
‘So would the young lady yonder, if I might judge from her blushes,’ said Miss Betty, looking at Nina. ‘Not indeed but it’s only now I’m remembering that you’re not a boy. That little red cap and that thing you wear round your throat deceived me.’
‘It is not the lot of every one to be so fortunate in a head-dress as Miss O’Shea,’ said Nina, very calmly.
‘If it’s my wig you are envying me, my dear,’ replied she quietly, ‘there’s nothing easier than to have the own brother of it. It was made by Crimp, of Nassau Street, and box and all cost four pound twelve.’
‘Upon my life, Miss Betty,’ broke in Kearney, ‘you are tempting me to an extravagance.’ And he passed his hand over his sparsely-covered head as he spoke.
‘And I would not, if I was you, Mathew Kearney,’ said she resolutely. ‘They tell me that in that House of Lords you are going to, more than half of them are bald.’