erecting her head; "it's a note of invitation
from Lady Betty MacQuillan, axin' me to do her
the honour of dancin' at her ball at Castle
Craigie on Wensday come eight days."

"Oh, then, then! but you're the lucky girl,"
cried the Widow Devnish, clapping her hands
over the note, while Hughie stalked away
silently to a window by himself. " I declare it's
as grand an' as beautyful as if it was written to
the Queen. Asthore! an' has your mother any
sense left at all, at all, with the dint o' the joy?"

"She didn't see it yet," stammered Ailsie,
seeing now the scrape into which she had got
herself through yielding to her reckless whim of
tormenting her lover. " I got it just as I left
home, an' she didn't see it yet."

"An' you're stan'in' up there as if nothin'
had happened you, you ongrateful colleen," said
the Widow Devnish, pocketing the note. " Wait
a minute, then, till I get the cloak, an' it's mysel'
'll go home wi' you, an' help to tell the
news."

CHAPTER III.

IT was speedily settled between Mary MacQuillan
and the Widow Devnish that Ailsie
should go to the ball.

"I have a fine piece of yellow Chaney silk,"
said the Widow Devnish, "that Sailor Johnny
sent me from beyont the says. It would make
her a skirt, barrin' it wasn't too long, an' a
hem o' somethin' else lined on behind."

"An' I've a ducky bit o' cherry tabinet,"
said Mary the mother, " that brother Pat, the
weaver, sent me from Dublin to make a bonnet
o'. It'll cut into a beautyful jockey for her,
barrin' we don't make the sleeves too wide."

So on the eventful night Ailsie was dressed
out in the yellow silk skirt and cherry-coloured
bodice, with a fine pair of stockings of Mary's
own knitting, with magnificent clocks up the
sides. Her little bog-trotting brogues were
polished till you could see yourself in the toes,
and a pair of elegant black silk mittens covered
her hands up to her little brown knuckles,
stretching up past her wrists to make amends
for the scantiness of her sleeves. Then, she
had a grand pair of clanking earrings as long
as your little finger, which the Widow Devnish
had worn as a bride; and the two
mothers, taking each a side of the victim's
head, plaited her thick black hair into endless
numbers of fanciful braids, which they rolled
round the crown of her head, and into which
they planted a tortoiseshell comb, curved like
the back of an arm-chair, which Jamie's mother
had worn at his christening, and which towered
over Ailsie's head like Minerva's helmet put on
the wrong way. Ned Mucklehern of the Windy
Gap was' to take her to Castle Craigie in his
new spring cart; and two good hours before
dark Ailsie was standing at the door, looking
longingly for a glimpse of Hughie coming over
the hill to see how handsome she looked m her
strange finery. But Hughie did not appear,
and vowing vengeance on him for his " sulks,"
Ailsie submitted to be packed up in the cart.

"But it's no use takin' the rue now," said
she. " I be to go through with it!" And with
desperate bravery she said good night to Ned
Mucklehern, who, at her command, set her down
at a little distance from the entrance gates, out
and in of which the carriages were rolling at such
a rate as made poor Ailsie's heart thump against
her side till it was like to burst through Pat the
weaver's tabinet.

She crept in through a little side-gate, and
up the avenue, keeping as much as possible in
shelter of the trees; but it was not quite dark
yet, and the coachmen coming and going stared
at her, taking her, maybe, for some masquerading
gipsy or strolling actress whom Lady Betty had
engaged to amuse the company. She arrived at
the hall door just in time to see a flock of young
ladies in white robes float gracefully over the
threshold, and the absurdity of her own costume
came before her in its terrible reality. Covered
with confusion, she looked about to see if she
could escape among the trees, and hide there till
morning; but one of the grand servants had
espied her, and under his eyes Ailsie scorned to
beat a retreat.

"What is your business here, young woman?"
asked this awful person, as she stepped into the
glare of the hall lights.

"I am one of Lady Betty's guests," said
Ailsie, lifting her head. But a horrible tittering
greeted this announcement from a crowd of
other servants, who were all eyeing her curiously
from head to foot. Ailsie was ready to sink
into the earth with shame and mortification,
when, happily, the arrival of a fresh carriageful
of guests diverted the general attention from
herself, and she heard some one saying, " This
way, miss." Glad to escape anywhere, she
foliowed a servant whose face she could not see,
but whose voice was wonderfully familiar. Passing
through an inner hall, her hand was grasped
by this person, and she was swiftly drawn into
a pantry and the door shut.

"Oh, Hughie, Hughie!" cried Ailsie, bursting
into tears, and clinging to his arm. " Then
where did you dhrop from, anyways?"

"Whisht, avourneen!" said Hughie, " we
haven't a minute to stay, for yon chaps 'll be
runnin' in an' out here all night. But do you
think Hughie could rest aisy at home an' you
unprotected in this place? Wan o' the fellows
was knocked up with all the wine that's goin',
an' they were glad to give me his place, an' his
clothes. Ye won't feel so lonesome."

"Oh, Hughie, I wisht I'd stayed at home as
you bid me. An' your han', Hughie?"

"Och, never mind it, asthore. I'll only carry
small thrays, and the wan hand 'll do beautiful.
Come now, aroon." So, resuming his character
of servant, Hughie squired his trembling lady-
love up Lady Betty's gilded staircase.

The ball was held in an old-fashioned hall,
whose roof was crossed with dark rafters, from
which gloomy old banners were swinging. The
door was partly open, and Ailsie peeped in.

"Oh, Hughie, Hughie!" she whispered, " take
me back to the panthry! I'll lie close in