o be Irish myself, but it will be a pleasant change to have a
Paddy among us!"

"Well, I hope she isn't quarrelsome in this room, that's all!" said a
third speaker, who had hitherto been silent, "because if she is, I shall
feel it my duty to give her a taste of Home Rule that she may not
appreciate. And if she snores I shall squeeze my sponge over her, so
you may tell her what she has to expect. There's nothing like training
these youngsters properly from the beginning!"

"Twelve years old! I call it mean to put a child like that in this
room! You are fourteen, I'm fourteen, Ethel is fifteen; we ought to
have one of the older ones with us. We will make her fag for her
living. She shall get the hot water, and fold up our nightgowns, and
pick up the pins. All the same, I shall be kind to her, for the credit
of the country, for Irish people are always imagining themselves ill-
used by England. If I had thought of it I would have drawn a picture
for her cubicle, as a delicate little mark of attention. An Irishman
with his--what do you call it?--shi-lee-lah!"

The speaker stopped suddenly as she pronounced this difficult word, for
a curious muffled sound reached her ears. "What's that?" she asked
quickly; but her companions had heard nothing, so she retired into the
cubicle next Pixie's own to brush her hair, slightly raising her voice,
so as to be heard more easily by her companions.

"She lives in a castle! I heard Miss Phipps telling Miss Bruce when she
was sending the labels. `Knock-kneed Castle,' or something like that.
Every second house in Ireland is called a castle, my father says. It's
no more than a villa in England, and all the people are as poor as Job,
and have hens in their parlours and pigs on the lawn. They don't know
what it is to keep order. What are you grunting for, Ethel? It's quite
true, I tell you!"

"Dear me, I'm not grunting, I'm only washing my hands," cried Ethel,
aggrieved. "What's the matter with your ears this afternoon? I don't
care where she lives, so long as she behaves herself, and knows how to
respect her elders. I wonder what she is like!"

"Irish girls are mostly pretty."

"Who told you that?"

"Never mind, I know it. It's always raining over there, and that is
supposed to be good for the hair, or the complexion, or something. And
they are so bright and vivacious. If an author wants to make a
specially lively heroine in a book, the father is Irish, and the m