hite mice,
guinea-pigs, and ferrets. Pixie had many farewells to bid in this
quarter, and elaborate instructions to give as to the care to be
lavished on her favourites during her absence. The ferret was boarded
out to Pat, who had no idea of doing anything for nothing, but was
willing to keep the creature supplied with the unsavoury morsels, in
which its soul delighted, for the fee of a halfpenny a week, to be paid
"some time," an happy O'Shaughnessy fashion. The white mice looked on
coldly with their little pink eyes, while their mistress's own grew red
with the misery of parting from them, and the rabbit seized the
opportunity to gnaw Bridgie's skirt with its sharp teeth; but for Pixie
the keenest pang of parting was over when she saw no more the floor with
its scattered cabbage-leaves, and the door closed behind her, shutting
out the dear mousy, rabbity smell associated with so many happy hours.

Outside on the gravel path old Dennis was sitting on a wheelbarrow
enjoying a pipe in the sunshine. He made no attempt to rise as "the
family" approached, but took the pipe out of his mouth and shook his
head lugubriously.

"This is the black day for us, for all the sun's shining in the skies.
Good luck to ye, Miss Pixie, and don't forget to spake a good word for
Ould Ireland when the opportunity is yours. The ould place won't seem
like itself with you and Mr Jack both going off within the same month;
but there's one comfort--one frettin' will do for the pair of you!" And
with this philosophic reflection he stuck the pipe back in the corner of
his mouth and resigned himself to the inevitable.

"Pixie darling," said Bridgie nervously, "I think we must go back to the
house. It's time--very nearly time that you were getting ready. Father
is going to drive you over in the cart, and he won't like to be kept
waiting."

"Aren't you coming too?" queried Pixie eagerly. There was a look on
Bridgie's face this morning which reminded her of the dear dead mother,
and she had a sudden feeling of dread and longing. "I want you,
Bridgie! Come too! Come too!"

"I can't, my dearie. Your box must go, you know, and there's not room
for both. But you won't cry, Pixie. It's only babies who cry, not
girls like you--big girls, almost in their teens, going away to see the
world like any grand lady. You may see the queen some day! Think of
that, now! If you ever do, bow to her twice--once for yourself, and
once for me--and te