attitude.

"Yes! _Ain't_ I smart? Me dear, regard the feather! I've longed for
years to possess a scrumptious feather, and have talked by the hour,
trying to convince Bridgie it was economical in the end. But she
wouldn't. She said 'twas expensive at the start, and she couldn't see
any further. Sometimes she _is_ dense. She can't help it, poor
creature, living with Dick! However, Esmeralda did, and she bought it
in Paris to match my coat. It measures a yard, loved one! And _isn't_
it kind of it to turn blue at the end? That little touch of blue just
behind my ear _does_ set me off! Honest Indian, Patrick! If you didn't
know better, and came suddenly into the room, wouldn't you think I was a
pretty girl?"

"I should!" answered Pat; but a moment later he added, with true
brotherly candour, "But you're not."

"All the more credit to me!" retorted Pixie glibly. She lifted a chair
which stood at the left of the fireplace, carried it to a similar
position on the right, and seated herself upon it. "This side's the
best.--I must sit here, and let Mr Glynn see my splendour in full
blast. Won't he be pleased?"

"He'll never notice. Glynn's above hats," Pat maintained; but,
nevertheless, he could not take his own eyes off the dainty grey figure,
with the piquant face smiling beneath the brim of the wide hat, and that
fascinating little tip of blue ending the long, grey plume. His
admiration showed in his eyes, but he felt it his duty to be bracing in
words.

"I never thought I should live to see _you_ conceited about clothes!"

"Ye _do_ get these shocks in life. It's a sad old world!" answered
Pixie, and grimaced at him saucily, as she buttoned her glove.

And, after all, Stephen Glynn never did notice the feather. For a
ten-pound note he could not have described the next day a single article
of Pixie's attire. He was aware, however, it was pleasant to walk about
with Pixie O'Shaughnessy, and that passers-by seemed to envy him his
post, and he was relieved that she was disfigured by none of the
extremes of an ugly fashion; and, after all, nine men out of ten rarely
get beyond this point.

They sallied forth together, bidding Pat sleep all morning so as to be
ready to talk all afternoon, and descended the gaunt stone stairs to the
hall.

They walked quietly, but with enjoyment in each other's company. The
usual crowd blocked the Abbey door, and Stephen and Pixie stood waiting
under the statue of th