Mr. Barrett advanced to the table, looking with a sickly smile to his partner for an encouragement which he did not receive. Nugent and I left our window, and came closer to see the finish of the game. We had not long to wait. Taking prolonged aim at the red ball, Mr. Barrett dealt his own a faltering tap; it rolled slowly across the table, and, without touching either of the other balls, sank unobtrusively into a side pocket.
“Three to us. Game!” said Miss Watson. “I think we did pretty well, Mr. Sarsfield. I told you you were good at games as soon as I looked at your hand.”
“Why, have you had your fortune told, Willy?” I said.
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Are you quite sure you’ve told me everything?”—turning from me to Miss Watson.
“Oh dear, no! not more than half. I shall think about your hand, and tell you the rest another day,” said Miss Watson, with great suavity. “Irishmen’s hands are so puzzling—so contradictory, you know; but I suppose all Irish people are that, aren’t they?”
“Never mind, Mr. Barrett,” I heard Connie saying; “we will play them again some other time. Now, good people, won’t you all come and have some tea?” she continued. “You had better not lose time, or there will be none left. Mr. Horan gets through tea and cake like a Sunday school—four cups at least, and two slices with every cup! So if you and Willie are going to have any more palmistry, Georgie, we certainly shall not wait for you.”
In the drawing-room, we found Madam O’Neill, Henrietta, and Mr. Horan sitting over the tea-table; the latter with his handkerchief spread over his knees, and a general greasiness of aspect suggestive of buttered toast. The Burkes had gone, and, to my unbounded relief, The O’Neill did not appear.
“It’s just as I said,” whispered Connie; “there isn’t an atom of toast or hot cake left. Did you see mamma just now hiding the sponge-cake behind the slop-basin to get it out of his way? I see the Burkes have gone,” she went on. “If you could only have heard old Mimi singing your praises before you came to-day! She said it was ‘deloightful to have that sweet young creature settled in the country,’ and that, ‘considering you had been brought up among the Americans, you really spoke English as well as she did.’ Was not that what she said, Nugent?”
Her brother laughed, and sat down beside me.
“You see, what I told you is quite true,” he said, “though perhaps I did not put it as nicely as Miss Burke did. As an American young lady, you are a failure in these parts.”