“Could n't we allude to it to-day, when Cashel calls, and say something about your going away to the country and our regrets at parting, and so on? Olivia, you might do that very easily.”
“It wouldn't do for Olivia,” said Aunt Fanny, very sententiously.
“Quite right, aunt,” chimed in Miss Kennyfeck; “that would be like old Admiral Martin, who shot away all his ammunition firing salutes.”
“Mr. Kennyfeck!” said his spouse, with a voice of command; “I vow he is deafer every day—Mr. Kennyfeck, you must call on Mr. Cashel this morning, and say that we really cannot think of inflicting him with an entire family; that you and I alone—or you and Olivia—”
“No—no, Mr. Kennyfeck and Caroline,” interposed Aunt Fanny, “say that.”
“Thanks for the preference,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a short nod, “I am to play lightning-conductor; isn't it so?”
“Or shall I propose going alone?” interposed Mr. Kennyfeck, in all the solemnity of self-importance.
“Is n't he too bad?” exclaimed his wife, turning to the others; “did you ever conceive there could be anything as dull as that man? We cannot trust you with any part of the transaction.”
“Here comes Mr. Cashel himself,” said Miss Kennyfeck; as a phaeton drove rapidly to the door, and Cashel, accompanied by a friend, descended.
“Not a word of what we were speaking, Mr. Kennyfeck!” said his wife, sternly, for she reposed slight reliance on his tact.