dried her eyes, and her face brightened a very little, but she then shook her head sadly and murmured to herself, Pork chops!'

There was a world of pathos in the voice in which she uttered these two words, and her husband hastened to speak, that the more cheerful view of the subject might be continued.

'Give us a clean tablecloth,' said he; and tell Kitty to put on a clean apron; and do your hair bright and neat, and wear any of your nice frocks without minding what nonsense it's made of; and come with your own pretty, smiling face to bid our friends welcome, and faith, Lettice, it does not matter one bit whether we give them pork chops or roast turkey for dinner.'

Mrs. Tippington vouchsafed the faint ghost of a smile at some of her husband's pleasant words, and relented a little, but not without saying several times over to herself in a deplorable manner, 'So like a man, so very like a man!'

'And why shouldn't I be like a man?' demanded her husband. And by the same token, my dear, I think you are uncommonly like a woman.'

'If you mean by that, Mr. Tippington,' she began in great indignation.

'My dear, I mean nothing by it,' interrupted he, 'nothing whatever.'

'Well, remember,' cried Mrs. Tippington, whom

her husband's last imprudent words-the statement that she was uncommonly like a woman-appeared to have irritated in quite an extraordinary manner' remember, I wash my hands of it: I protest against the whole thing entirely. I say it's extremely unkind of you to ask the Donollys to dinner, when you knew we'd only pork chops in the house, and my black silk dress comes home to-morrow, and Mrs. Donolly always dressing so well!'

'And I say that neither one nor the other is of the slightest consequence,' replied Mr. Tippington in rather a loud voice. I asked them because their kitchen chimney was on fire, and it's not much of a dinner they'd have had if they stayed at home; and if we had only potatoes and bacon for dinner and many a time I've seen nothing else on my father's table-I'd have asked them just the same, since it was for their own sakes I did it, not for ours.'

'Very well, Mr. Tippington,' said his wife; 'please yourself, and take the consequences.'

'Which are?' inquired he, rather astonished.

'Sure, you know what I mean as well as I do,' she cried, tossing her head; 'there's nothing on earth vulgarer than pork chops. And you just see what

the Donollys think of us.'

'Why did you tell me to buy a loin of pork, then?' asked Mr. Tippington, a little startled.

'Oh, they are very nice,' replied Mrs. Tippington; 'but nice isn't genteel, and you know it isn't.'

'Sure,' said Mr. Tippington, recovering himself, 'pork chops are very nice; and as to vulgar or genteel, that's rubbish! If you're not ashamed of eating them with me, I'm not ashamed to give them to the Donollys when their kitchen chimney's caught fire.'

'Oh, mercy! mercy!' cried she, stopping her ears; 'it's myself that's sick to death of their kitchen chimney. Why is their kitchen chimney's being on fire to be dinned into my ears for ever?'

'Do you wish to have a sponge-cake and oranges for dessert, or do you not?' asked Mr. Tippington. 'You know I do.'

'Maybe, then, there isn't more than time for me to go out and get them,' said he, consulting his watch.

And why don't you go, then?' demanded his wife tartly. Sure, nobody's keeping you.'

'There's nothing else you want, I suppose?' 'There is. Leastways, you might as well order a quart of soup to be sent in, and an apple pie, while you're about it; and then we shall have a dinner we could set our friends down to without being ashamed of ourselves, and feeling a blush on our cheeks.'

'Who's ashamed? I'm not. And as to soup and

apple pie, that is nonsense entirely! Mitchel's is not one of your fine confectioners who can send you out soup and apple pie for the asking. Clanmena is not Cork, and I'm not a fool. If it was fifty quarts of soup and five hundred apple pies I could. have, I wouldn't touch them, to make the Donollys uncomfortable by going out of our way, and putting ourselves to ridiculous expense, as if we were ashamed of ourselves and our dinners. The Donollys' kitchen chimney was on fire. Says I, "Come and take pot luck with us." Says they, "So we will; and it's kind of you." And it's pot luck I'll give them, and neither more nor less.'

'Give it them, then; do,' cried Mrs. Tippington. 'And it's on my mind to say that as you haven't had a thought for me from first to last, it's yourself shall give it them, and I won't stir a foot out of my room at all.'

'And it's on my mind to say that you'll not be such a fool; for if you are, I'll tell the Donollys the reason right out, and that you are ashamed of pork chops.'

'As if I cared!' cried she. 'It's any one might be ashamed of pork chops. It's not I that am odd for being ashamed of them; it's you that are more than odd for not being ashamed of pork chops!'

Sure, I'm not a Jew, am I?' retorted her husband. 'Now, look here, Lettice, don't be foolish. We've

no minutes to spare. Run down-stairs and give Kitty her orders, and then run up-stairs and make yourself fit to be seen, and I'll go out and get the cakes and the oranges; and by the time it's done, we'll have the Donollys here, for I said four sharp, and they said four sharp too.'

'And it's four that is the outlandish hour to dine at,' sighed his wife. 'Nobody dines at four now. It's two they dine at, like the English, or it's at six, seven, or eight o'clock. Sure, you may stare, Mr. Tippington, you who don't know the ways of genteel society, but it's the truth I'm telling you. There's the Queen dines at eight o'clock every day of her life, no less!'

'And does she really, now?' asked Mr. Tippington, decidedly interested and impressed. And it's no wonder Her Majesty's health isn't as good as we all wish it to be. But I'll tell you what, Lettice, it's the Bishop that dines at two with his family, that he does, I know it; the butler told me himself.'

'Bishops may do as they like; and you're not a bishop, Mr. Tippington,' retorted his wife, and a vastly ungenteel one you'd make if you were. But they do say the Bishop favours English ways uncommonly; and didn't I tell you the English all dine at two o'clock? But, four o'clock! No fashionable person ever dined at four o'clock! Couldn't