“Well, the remainder is soon told. They now got in upon us, and of course I need n't say we got confoundedly thrashed. Kennyfeck was tumbled about like a football; every one that had nothing else to do had a kick at him, and there 's no saying how it might have ended had not a certain Sir George Somebody recognized our poor friend, and rescued him. I 'm not quite sure that I was quite myself about this time; Kennyfeck has some story of my getting on some one's horse, and riding about the course in search of the originators of the fray. The end of it, however, was, we reached Liverpool with sorer bones than was altogether pleasant, and although, when Kennyfeck went to bed, I went to the theatre, the noise only increased my headache, and it needed a good night's sleep to set me all right again.”
“Mr. Kennyfeck taken for one of the swell mob!” exclaimed Softly, with a sort of holy horror that seemed to sum up his whole opinion of the narrative.
“Very bad, was n't it?” said Cashel, pushing the wine past; “but he's a capital fellow,—took the whole thing in such good part, and seems only anxious that the story should n't get abroad. Of course I need n't repeat my caution on that subject?”
“Oh, certainly not! Shall we join the ladies?” said Mr. Jones, as he surveyed his whiskers and arranged the tie of his cravat before the glass.
“I'm quite ready,” said Cashel, who had quietly set down in his own mind that the ladies of the Kennyfeck family were a kind of female fac-simile of the stiff-looking old attorney, and, therefore, felt very few qualms on the subject of his disordered and slovenly appearance.
Scarcely had Cashel entered the drawing-room than he found his hand grasped in Mr. Kennyfeck's, when, with a most dulcet acccent, he said,—
“I knew you 'd forgive me,—I told Mrs. Kennyfeck you'd excuse me for not joining you at dinner; but I was really so fatigued. Mrs. Kennyfeck—Mr. Cashel. My daughter, Mr. Cashel. My daughter Olivia. Well, now, have you dined heartily?—I hope my friends here took care of you.”
“I thank you. I never dined better,—only sorry not to, have had your company. We have our apologies to make, Mrs. Kennyfeck, for not being earlier; but, of course, you 've heard that we did our very utmost.”
“Oh, yes, yes! I explained everything,” interrupted Kennyfeck, most eager to stop a possible exposure. “Mrs. Kennyfeck knows it all.”
Although Cashel's manner and address were of a kind to subject him to the most severe criticism of the ladies of the Kennyfeck family, they evinced the most laudable spirit in their hospitable and even cordial reception of him, Mrs. Kennyfeck making room for him to sit on the sofa beside her,—a post of honor that even the Castle aides-de-camp only enjoyed by great favor; while the daughters listened with an attention as flattering to him as it was galling to the other two guests.