Perhaps it was because you had missed the afternoon with your friends.
I cannot think a girl of your age should cry over a simple verrrb."

"I thought it was a very elaborate verb!" said Pixie faintly. "But it
wasn't that that made me cry; it was hurting your feelings,
Mademoiselle!"

Mademoiselle leant back in her seat and looked intently at the shrinking
figure.

"Look up, _cherie_!" she said softly, and Pixie's fear fell from her
like a mantle. She saw a hand outstretched, and clasped it eagerly.

"I never meant to hang you, Mademoiselle! It was only a joke. The
girls asked me to amuse them, and we think it fine sport to lasso one
another at home. How was I to know it would be you, when I gave my word
I would catch the first one that came upstairs? I didn't mean to be
impertinent."

"But, _ma petite_, you should not play such treecks at all!"
Mademoiselle shook her head, but she was smiling as she spoke, for she
was beginning to realise that no disrespect had been meant to herself,
and that she had been unduly stern in her denunciations. "It is not the
thing for a young lady at school; it is only for wild--how do you call
them--`cowboys,' out on the prairie. If you do it at 'ome, it is not my
affair, but if your father should see you some day, he must be shocked
like me!"

"I'm the youngest of six, and me father won't have me thwarted!" sighed
Pixie, lapsing into her brogue, as she usually did when agitated.
"Nobody's ever angry with me at Bally William; I get into mischief the
day long, and it's all quite happy and comfortable. If I'm quiet and
well-behaved, Bridgie is after giving me a mixture, for, says she, `The
choild's ill; there's not been a sound out of her this day!' I wish I
was back in me own country, Mademoiselle, and then I shouldn't trouble
you any more!"

"I vish I was back in my countree, too," sighed the other softly, and
two big tears started in the brown eyes, and trickled slowly down the
cheeks. "My father is ill, and needs me, and I cannot be with him. I
feel as if I could have wings and fly, I long so much to go; but I must
stay here and work. My 'eart is very sad, and sometimes I get cross--
too cross, perhaps, because I cannot bear any more. Then you girls talk
among yourselves and say, `How she is bad-tempered, that Mademoiselle!
How she is cross and strict!' That is what you say very often, _n'est-
ce pas_?"

"We do!" replied Pixie frankly. It was one of the Irishi