top a joke when it is going too far. Oh, and a
dozen other things which you can imagine for yourself! The girls know
best who deserves the prize, and they vote at the end of the year, and
whoever gets most votes gets the prize."

"Who got it last year?"

"Margaret, of course. So she would every time, but the same person is
not allowed to have it two years running. A good thing, too, for we
should all feel that it was no use competing with her, and so give up
trying."

"And who do you think will get it this year?"

"Oh dear me! How many more questions? Myself, of course, for answering
you so kindly. If you don't vote for me, young woman, there'll be a
coldness between us, and so I tell you. Flora thinks she will get it,
but it won't be fair if she does, for she is so fat that she couldn't be
anything else than good-natured if she tried. Now I have really a
violent temper, but I keep it in check. I can't answer any more
questions, though. Time's up. I give you all two minutes more, and
then I must put out the light."

"Let me do it! I'll put it out! You get into your bed and keep warm,
and I'll wait upon you!" cried Pixie eagerly; and, to her dismay, there
came a simultaneous burst of laughter from all three listeners.

"She's Alicing," they cried--"she's Alicing! Nothing like beginning in
time, and making the most of your opportunities. So you want that prize
too, do you, as well as the class one? It's a bad lookout for the rest
of the girls. There won't be anything left for us to try for."

Pixie stood transfixed within her cubicle, staring before her with
bewildered eyes. As it had been her delight to wait upon her beloved
sisters, it had come naturally to wish to help these girls who, for the
time, had taken their place in her life. She had made her offer in all
good faith, and her heart swelled with bitterness at the injustice of
the accusation. A rush of honest Irish pride forbade an answer; but the
tears came to her eyes as she lay down in bed, and the loneliness of
exile fell upon her. Bally William, oh, dear Bally William, how are you
looking to-night? Is everything going on as usual, though Pixie
O'Shaughnessy is far away in a cold, cruel land where no one knows her,
and her best motives are misjudged and derided? Beautiful old castle,
standing among your luxuriant green, are the lamps lit in your rooms,
and twinkling like so many stars into the night? And there, where the
red cu