"Oh, it's very fine, Peter," said the
young lady, bursting into quite a torrent
of her wrongs; " but it's only the way I
am always treated!"

"But what's the treatment? Has any
Jack among them dared t' insult my bud?
By the—"

"Ah, nonsense, Peter! Leave off that.
It's very hard that a girl should get no
chance in her own house, but must be
put down, and chilled up, in every way.
It's mean and cruel," added Polly,
vehemently.

"Lords and Commons save us!" said
the Doctor, piously; " but this is th' Asiatic
mystery to me. Katey, tell us what it's
about, while your sister sits herself on the
hob and cools a bit."

"Oh, yes, ask Katey! Anything so
artful, and unkind, and unfair!" said Polly,
in a burst of tears, and giving a little
stamp at every word. " Pretending to
help me on, and thrusting herself in before
me—interrupting me at every little word I
had to say!"

"Indeed, Polly, dear, it was all to help
you, and to give you openings."

"Give me openings!" said her sister
with pouting scorn. " As if I was a little
baby! As if we wanted that poor young
man, or were scheming to take him in!
But you've finished it —that's the only
finish you've made of it all. And you've
set him against me; and I know he thinks
I am a mere child, or a baby. And from
this hour, Peter, it's no use talking to me;
I'll never raise my little finger," and Polly
raised a very pretty one as she spoke,
"to attract him, or get him! Never! I
am always put back and interfered with,
and made to appear a child. No, no, let
Katey use her own arts and tricks for
herself. And then we'll see how she'll
succeed. But I hate," another stamp,
"hypocrisy! And the pretence of everything
being done for Polly: while this underhand
work is going on all the time!"

Katey listened, a little wounded, but
still with an air of being used to this sort
of thing. The Doctor looked at his Polly,
much as he would at what he called a
"God-reward-ye" patient, in his parlour, and
then turned away and began to whistle
the Cruiskeen Lawn. He left it to Doctor
Katey.

"'Deed, Polly," she went on, "it was
all to help you; not that you want help,
but it was all for the best. Now, don't
suspect; I'll manage better another time.
I was new to it, and so afraid the young
fellow would think us stiff, if we didn't all
try and make him at home." (The father
and mother had by this time withdrawn,
leaving " the case " in her hands.) " Now
don't be angry with poor Katey; I wish
you had heard me, and how he wanted to
see you play the ' stool of repentance.' For
I told him how charmingly you could do
it, and he was quite curious."

Polly, who had been pouting and weeping
all this time, now lifted her flushed
face with interrogation in her daring
eyes.

"No? did he? And he asked about
that. I'm sure 'twould be better than his
own foolish game. Did ye ever see such
fiddle-de-dee nonsense? A child of four
years old would have done something better.
I declare I was ashamed before old
Shipton—" Polly was of this gay, fretful
temper; the sun or moon had broken out
through the clouds and rain. In a moment
the sisters were kissing and fondling
each other. " It was Peter after all," said
Polly; " it's hard to keep my temper with
him. Did ye see when I wanted to mix
for the young man—not that I cared about
the honour. I declare Peter takes such fits,
and was cross."

"Ah, but Peter's very wise, you know,
wiser than you or I," said Katey, gravely.

The two girls thus sat up together in
their room—talking over the party. Peter
and his wife would now and again catch
the sound of a ringing laugh. They were
talking over plans of future enjoyment, and
Katey, in her innocent heart, unfolded to
her sister what she thought " the best
plan " for the future. " Now you were
angry with me to-night, and thought I
interfered; but you know you are so gay,
and piquant, and lively, that shy foolish
creatures sometimes take fright at first,
till they know you, and stand off—"

"'Deed, yes," said Polly, thoughtfully,
suspending her hair brushing; her bright
eyes gleaming through her hair as though
it was a veil. " I have noticed that
sometimes, Katey."

"So I think. There's nothing like a friend
at court, you gay and brilliant Polly: you
are good enough for a duke's lady."

"Nonsense, Katey," said Polly, blushing,
disclaiming the compliment.

"Yes you are," said her sister, seriously,
"and it would be a cruel thing that people
should take a wrong notion, or should not
know what is really in you. So I think,
dearest," added Katey, humbly, " it is
only fair and just to you that some one