Lord Kilcarney had been hunted desperately around screens and over every ottoman in the room; and Lady Georgina had proved her goodwill in proportion to the amount of assistance she had lent to her friends in the chase.  Long ago he had been forced away from Olive.  Mrs. Barton endured with stoical indifference the scowls of her hostess; but at length, compelled to recognize that none of the accidents attendant on the handing of teacups or the moving of chairs would bring him back, she rose to take her leave.  The little Marquis was on his feet in a moment, and, shaking hands with her effusively, he promised to call to see them at the Shelbourne.  A glance went round; and of Mrs. Barton’s triumph there could be no doubt.

‘But to-day’s success is often a prelude to to-morrow’s defeat,’ was Lady Georgina’s comment, and Mrs. Barton and her daughters were discussed as they walked across the green to their hotel.  Nor was Lady Georgina altogether a false prophet, for next day Mrs. Barton found the Marquis’s cards on her table.  ‘I’m sorry we missed him,’ she said, ’but we haven’t a minute;’ and, calling on her daughters to follow, she dashed again into the whirl of a day that would not end for many hours, though it had begun twelve hours ago—­a day of haste and anticipation it had been, filled with cries of ‘Mamma,’ telegrams, letters, and injunctions not to forget this and that—­a day whose skirts trailed in sneers and criticisms, a hypocritical and deceitful day, a day of intrigue, a day in which the post-box was the chief factor—­a great day withal.

But above this day, and above all other days, was the day that took them spellbound to the foot of a narrow staircase, a humble flight seemingly, but leading to a temple of tightly-stretched floorcloth, tall wardrobes, and groups and lines of lay figures in eternally ladylike attitudes.

’Oh! how do you do, Mrs. Barton?  We have been expecting you for the last two or three days.  I will run upstairs and tell Mrs. Symond that you are here; she will be so glad to see you.’

‘That is Miss Cooper!’ explained Mrs. Barton.  ’Everyone knows her; she has been with Mrs. Symond many years.  And, as for dear Mrs. Symond, there is no one like her.  She knows the truth about everybody.  Here she comes,’ and Mrs. Barton rushed forward and embraced a thin woman with long features.

’And how do you do, dear Mrs. Barton, and how well you are looking, and the young ladies?  I see Miss Olive has improved since she was in Dublin.’ (In an audible whisper.) ’Everyone is talking about her.  There is no doubt but that she’ll be the belle of the season.’ (In a still audible, but lower tone of voice.) ‘But tell me, is it true that—­’

‘Now, now, now!’ said Mrs. Barton, drowning her words in cascades of silvery laughter, ’I know nothing of what you’re saying; ha! ha! ha! no, no—­I assure you.  I will not—­’

Then, as soon as the ladies had recovered their composure, a few questions were asked about her Excellency, the prospects of the Castle season, and the fashions of the year.