like you."

"Nice girls--they play at everything I tell 'em. Jolly boys--when they
knock a girl down, they pick her up again, and clean her."

Carmina was once more in danger of passing the limit. Ovid made another
attempt to effect a diversion. Singing would be comparatively harmless
in its effect--as he rashly supposed. "What's that song you learnt in
Scotland?" he asked.

"It's Donald's song," Zo replied. _"He_ taught me."

At the sound of Donald's dreadful name, Ovid looked at his watch, and
said there was no time for the song. Mr. Gallilee suddenly and seriously
sided with his step-son. "How she got among the men after dinner," he
said, "nobody knows. Lady Northlake has forbidden Donald to teach her
any more songs; and I have requested him, as a favour to me, not to let
her smack his legs. Come, my dear, it's time we were home again."

Well intended by both gentlemen--but too late. Zo was ready for the
performance; her hat was cocked on one side; her plump little arms were
set akimbo; her round eyes opened and closed facetiously in winks worthy
of a low comedian. "I'm Donald," she announced: and burst out with the
song: _"We're gayly yet, we're gayly yet; We're not very fou, but we're
gayly yet: Then sit ye awhile, and tipple a bit; For we're not very fou,
but we're gayly yet."_ She snatched up Carmina's medicine glass, and
waved it over her head with a Bacchanalian screech. "Fill a brimmer,
Tammie! Here's to Redshanks!"

"And pray who is Redshanks?" asked a lady, standing in the doorway. Zo
turned round--and instantly collapsed. A terrible figure, associated
with lessons and punishments, stood before her. The convivial friend
of Donald, the established Missus of Lord Northlake, disappeared--and a
polite pupil took their place. "If you please, Miss Minerva, Redshanks
is nickname for a Highlander." Who would have recognised the singer of
"We're gayly yet," in the subdued young person who made that reply?

The door opened again. Another disastrous intrusion? Yes, another!
Teresa appeared this time--caught Zo up in her arms--and gave the child
a kiss that was heard all over the room. "Ah, mia Giocosa!" cried the
old nurse--too happy to speak in any language but her own. "What does
that mean?" Zo asked, settling her ruffled petticoats. "It means," said
Teresa, who prided herself on her English, "Ah, my Jolly." This to a
young lady who could slit a haggis! This to the only person in Scotland,
privileged to smack