Cashel Byron's Profession

Before many days had elapsed a letter came for Cashel as he sat

taking tea with the Skene family. When he saw the handwriting, a

deep red color mounted to his temples.

"Oh, Lor'!" said Miss Skene, who sat next him. "Let's read it."

"Go to the dickens," cried Cashel, hastily baffling her as she

snatched at it.

"Don't worrit him, Fan," said Mrs. Skene, tenderly.

"Not for the world, poor dear," said Miss Skene, putting her hand

affectionately on his shoulder. "Let me just peep at the name--to

see who it's from. Do, Cashel, DEAR."

"It's from nobody," said Cashel. "Here, get out. If you don't let me

alone I'll make it warm for you the next time you come to me for a

lesson."

"Very likely," said Fanny, contemptuously. "Who had the best of it

to-day, I should like to know?"

"Gev' him a hot un on the chin with her right as ever I see,"

observed Skene, with hoarse mirth.

Cashel went away from the table, out of Fanny's reach; and read the

letter, which ran thus: "Regent's Park. "Dear Mr. Cashel Byron,--I am desirous that you

should meet a lady friend of mine. She will be here at three o'clock

to-morrow afternoon. You would oblige me greatly by calling on me at

that hour.

"Yours faithfully, "Lydia Carew."

There was a long pause, during which there was no sound in the room

except the ticking of the clock and the munching of shrimps by the

ex-champion.

"Good news, I hope, Cashel," said Mrs. Skene, at last, tremulously.

"Blow me if I understand it," said Cashel. "Can you make it out?"

And he handed the letter to his adopted mother. Skene ceased eating

to see his wife read, a feat which was to him one of the wonders of

science.

"I think the lady she mentions must be herself," said Mrs. Skene,

after some consideration.

"No," said Cashel, shaking his head. "She always says what she

means."

"Ah," said Skene, cunningly; "but she can't write it though. That's

the worst of writing; no one can't never tell exactly what it means.

I never signed articles yet that there weren't some misunderstanding

about; and articles is the best writing that can be had anywhere."

"You'd better go and see what it means," said Mrs. Skene.

"Right," said Skene. "Go and have it out with her, my boy."