were to set out looking for arrogance,
meanness, and all the vices, alas! he would be
too sure to find them among the poor. In
this strain the fluent Billy proceeded. No
court preacher could have more plentifully
sprinkled texts with rose-water, while
the poor modest Mr. Leader, now blushing,
now important under the fierce rays from
so many eyes, moved uncomfortably and
restlessly on his cushion, "for all the world
like a bear upon a hot plate," said the
Doctor.

Mrs. Leader sat steady, and with an
august air of approval: silently she said to
herself, "Bidding for the living," smiling
as she thought of this arrogance, and that
it was to go to a Cousin Charles. When
it was over, all poured out eagerly, and
all clustered about the churchyard to see
"the 'gust dynasty," says Doctor Findlater,
get into their coach. The little creeping
barrister, who led the way, was instantly
seized on by Lord Shipton and family. "You
must let me introduce myself," he said, with
infinite heartiness, as if forcing his purse
on them. "Lord Shipton, a neighbour of
yours. These are my girls: Harriet dear,
Mrs. Leader. Now, if there is anything we
can do at Shipton—I know you will smile
at a pauper like me, Mrs. Leader, offering
to help you, Mrs. Leader, with your noble
rental and park," &c.

"Very kind, I am sure," says Mrs. Leader,
overcome with gratitude. But there was
some one else as adventurous and forward
as Lord Shipton; and Doctor Findlater had
boldly advanced to the assault of the modest
head of the family.

"No introduction wanted for me. I
know I'm not a welcome guest always,
but it is only proper you should know
my face and name." Thus artfully
conveying that he was forced disagreeably,
and for their good, to put himself in the
way. "I'm Doctor Findlater, the last
public character here. Of course you
heard of that business? Just be kind
enough—with Mrs. Leader, if you please.
Just saying, ma'am, you could spare any
house in the village here but the one
behind us, the church, and my little place. I
am afraid, if it came to the choice, I'd have
to go, ma'am."

Mrs. Leader bowed graciously. He was
an official. "Are those your daughters,
Doctor Findlater? Nice looking girls."

Nice looking! Two brilliant faces, quick
moving, lit up with a delighted, most
genuine and devouring curiosity, dancing
eyes of Irish violet, gay cheeks, and a freedom
of limb and attitude that to the nice
world may seem vulgar. These two figures
the doctor led forward. "This is my
eldest—Katey, as good as a bank note;
and this is Polly, 'Coaxy,' as she is called,
or as I call her, privately, my Cruiskeen
Lawn.

Blushes bathed both faces of these Irish
girls. Polly's shoulders worked and writhed,
her finger went to her mouth, like a peasant
girl's on the stage. She cast down her
eyes and stole looks with them; while
Katey, almost as confused, but more
composed, stood demurely before the great
lady. She was pleased. They were
beautiful serfs upon her estate, or, just as good,
she could dispose of them. At a ball, for
instance, when she had the metropolitan
nobles down, she could answer to an
admiring question, "Oh, these are my doctor's
daughters."

She spoke kindly to them. Polly laughed,
or rather giggled, but Katey answered
timorously, and with grave and measured
respect. Their voices were sweet and rich,
with the faintest breath of a native—well,
scarcely brogue, more a rich and toneful
Doric. The parish, following behind like
a rush of sympathising attendants at a
funeral, left a respectful interim between
them and the slow-moving mourners in
front. Lord Shipton expatiated.

"Now, Mr. Leader, it is only right you
should know what is going on. There is a
movement on foot, which you will have
heard of, to get back the soldiers. Hitherto
the whole thing—and my friend, Doctor
Findlater, will confirm what I say—has been
grossly mismanaged. There has been no
person of sufficient weight"—and he looked
down curiously at the little gentleman beside
him—"to take the lead. I myself have
been put forward by some friends, but
really I felt that one in your position, Mr.
Leader, supported by these vast estates and
noble demesne, was exactly the proper
person to take the lead in this matter.
You know I call myself quite a nobleman
pauper. The secretaries and ministers,
and that sort of fry, don't care for your
titles. You, Mr. Leader, are the sort of
person they can't resist, the great territorial
country gentleman."

"I am sure," says Mr. Leader, in great
distress, "I should be delighted, but really
I don't know these sort of great people.
I could not ask them for anything."

Mrs. Leader turned sharply round.
"What is it you want to ask for?"

"Ah, Mrs. Leader will understand. It