“Mr. St. John is a very nice person too; but one never knows him like Lord Charles: he is more reserved. Olivia, however, says he has a great deal in him.”
“Oh, mamma! I 'm sure I don't know; I only thought him much more conversable than he gets credit for.”
“Well, I meant no more,” said her mother, who did not fancy the gathering gloom on Cashel's face at this allusion; “read on again, child.”
“Lord Chief Justice Malone.”
“Oh, Mr. Kennyfeck,” said she, playfully, “this is your doing; I suspected, from your confusion awhile ago, what you were at.” Then, turning to Roland, she said, “He is always playing us this trick, Mr. Cashel; whenever we have a few friends together, he will insist upon inviting some of his old bar cronies!”
A deep groan from Mr. Kennyfeck at the terrible profanity of thus styling the chief of the Common Pleas, made every one start; but even this, like a skilful tactician, Mrs. Kennyfeck turned to her own advantage.
“Pray don't sigh that way. He is a most excellent person, a great lawyer, and, they say, must eventually have the peerage.” She nodded to Olivia to proceed, who read on.
“The Attorney-General and Mrs. Knivett.”
“Oh, really, Mr. Kennyfeck, this is pushing prerogative; don't you think so, Mr. Cashel? Not but, you know, the Attorney-General is a great personage in this poor country; he is member for—where is it?”
“Baldoyle, mamma.”