'Yes, father. Olive told me so overnight;' and the conversation turned on her headache, and then on the state of Ireland.
Mrs. Barton asked if this last outrage would prove sufficient to force the Government to pass a new Coercion Bill.
'I wish they would put me at the head of an army,' Mr. Barton said, whose thoughts had gone back to his picture—Julius Caesar overturning the Altars of the Druids.
'Papa would look fine leading the landlords against the tenants dressed in Julius Caesar's big red cloak!' cried Mrs. Barton, turning back as she glided out of the room, already deep in consideration of what Milord would like to eat for luncheon and the gown she would wear that afternoon. Mr. Barton threw the newspaper aside and returned to his studio; and in the girls' room Olive and Barnes, the bland, soft smiling maid, began their morning gossip. Whatever subject was started it generally wound round to Captain Hibbert. Alice had wearied of his name, but this morning she pricked up her ears. She was surprised to hear her sister say she had forbidden him ever to visit the Lawlers. At that moment the dull sound of distant firing broke the stillness of the snow.
'I took good care to make Captain Hibbert promise not to go to this shooting-party the last time I saw him.'
'And what harm was there in his going to this shooting-party?' said
Alice.
'What harm? I suppose, miss, you have heard what kind of woman Mrs.
Lawler is? Ask Barnes,'
'You shouldn't talk in this way, Olive. We know well enough that Mrs. Lawler was not a lady before she married; but nothing can be said against her since.'
'Oh! can't there, indeed? You never heard the story about her and her steward? Ask Barnes.'
'Oh! don't miss; you shouldn't really!' said the maid. 'What will Miss
Alice think?'