“I can’t say, colonel, until I look at my list. We have such an enormous visiting list, Mrs. Casey,” turning to that lady, who was nearly caught in a feeble attempt at winking at her daughter, in order to beget that young person’s special attention to the delightful conversation going on between the visitors, and who was perfectly overwhelmed with dismay and apprehension lest she should have been perceived. “I put my engagements down alphabetically, and—he! he! he!—I’m so glad to think that you are so high on our list.”
The Bowdlers took their departure, after having promised to dine in Merrion Street on the following day.
“To-morrow will be Thursday, and we dine with the Commander of the Forces. Friday we dine at Lord Newry’s.”
“Never mind, my dear,” interposed the colonel, “I’ll come here. I’m heartily sick of those fearfully ceremonious banquets; besides,” he added, “we are not asked here every day, and Newry or Strathnairn will be glad to get us when they can.”
When Mickey Casey returned that evening from his office he found his wife and daughter in ecstasies over their newly-made acquaintances. There were no words in the English language sufficiently strong to convey a tithe of the admiration they entertained for them. Such elegance, such urbanity, such distinguished manners, such amiability!
“I’m going to the Twelfth ball,” cried Matilda, “and to be introduced to Lady Fitzmaurice and the Dayrolles, and dear Mrs. Bowdler is going to give a party for me, and to ask Lady Howth and Lord St. Lawrence and Lord Powerscourt all to hear me play. What shall I play? I must begin to practise at once. I’ll go to Pigott’s to-morrow for something new—the newest thing—and I’ll get Mrs. Joseph Robinson to give me six lessons.”
“I’ve asked them to dinner here,” said Mrs. Casey; “and only to think, Mick, I—”
“I do wish you’d say Mr. Casey, or at all events Michael, mamma,” burst in Matilda. “You see how dear Mrs. Bowdler addressed her husband. You’ll find it much more genteel.”
“Whatever you say, me darling. Well, Mister Casey—oh! I can’t do that after Micking him for twenty years,” she cried. “Well, Mick, what do you think, but the colonel gave up a dinner at the Commander of the Forces’ to come to us on Thursday.”
“Thursday, did ye say, Mary?”