Mr. Browne led his charges thither and invited them all, in jest, to some ladies’ punch, hot, strong, and sweet. As they said they never took anything strong, he opened three bottles of lemonade for them. Then he asked one of the young men to move aside, and, taking hold of the decanter, filled out for himself a goodly measure of whisky. The young men eyed him respectfully while he took a trial sip.

‘God help me,’ he said, smiling, ‘it’s the doctor’s orders.’

His wizened face broke into a broader smile, and the three young ladies laughed in musical echo to his pleasantry, swaying their bodies to and fro, with nervous jerks of their shoulders. The boldest said:

‘O, now, Mr. Browne, I’m sure the doctor never ordered anything of the kind.’

Mr. Browne took another sip of his whisky and said, with sidling mimicry:

‘Well, you see, I’m like the famous Mrs. Cassidy, who is reported to have said: “Now, Marry Grimes, if I don’t take it, make me take it, for I feel I want it.”’

His hot face had leaned forward a little too confidentially and he had assumed a very low Dublin accent, so that the young ladies, with one instinct, received his speech in silence. Miss Furlong, who was one of Mary Jane’s pupils, asked Miss Daly what was the name of the pretty waltz she had played; and Mr. Browne, seeing that he was ignored, turned promptly to the two young men, who were more appreciative.

A red-faced young woman, dressed in pansy, came into the room, excitedly clapping her hands and crying:

‘Quadrilles! Quadrilles!’

Close on her heels came Aunt Kate, crying:

‘Two gentlemen and three ladies, Mary Jane!’

‘O, here’s Mr. Bergin and Mr. Kerrigan,’ said Mary Jane. ‘Mr. Kerrigan, will you take Miss Power? Miss Furlong, may I get you a partner, Mr. Bergin. O, that’ll just do now.’

‘Three ladies, Mary Jane,’ said Aunt Kate.

The two young gentlemen asked the ladies if they might have the pleasure, and Mary Jane turned to Miss Daly.

‘O, Miss Daly, you’re really awful good, after playing for the last two dances, but really we’re so short of ladies tonight.’

‘I don’t mind in the least, Miss Morkan.’

‘But I’ve a nice partner for you, Mr. Bartell D’Arcy, the tenor. I’ll get him to sing later on. All Dublin is raving about him.’

‘Lovely voice, lovely voice!’ said Aunt Kate.

As the piano had twice begun the prelude to the first figure Mary Jane led her recruits quickly from the room. They had hardly gone when Aunt Julia wandered slowly into the room, looking behind her at something.

‘What is the matter, Julia?’ asked Aunt Kate anxiously. ‘Who is it?’

Julia, who was carrying in a column of table-napkins, turned to her sister and said, simply, as if the question had surprised her: