u would like!" replied Bridgie
unexpectedly. "You start by thinking that all the right is on your own
side, and all the wrong on theirs, and that you're a martyr and they are
brutes, and that your case is proven and there's not a word that could
be said in their defence; and then of a sudden--" she lifted the letter
in her hand--"you get _this_! And they _have_ a side, and they are not
brutes; and instead of being angry you have to be--you are forced into
being--sorry instead! It does feel hard! I didn't _want_ to be sorry
for Honor Ward..."

"I'm not sorry for her," said Pixie softly, "I'm glad. She's going to
be happy. ... Bridgie, dear, what can I send her, for a wedding
present?"

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

PIXIE FINDS HER HAPPINESS.

As soon as Pat had sufficiently recovered, he and Pixie travelled to
Ireland to spend a few weeks in the old homestead, now blooming in fresh
beauty under the management of Jack O'Shaughnessy and Sylvia his wife.
The great hall which had been of old so bare and desolate was now
embellished with Turkey carpets and tapestried walls: so far as the eye
could reach there was not one shabby, nor broken, nor patched-up
article; in sight; the damp and fusty odour which had filled the great
drawing-room, and which for years had been associated with State
apartments in Pixie's youthful mind, was a thing of the past. Even in
the chilliest weather the room remained warm, for electric radiators,
cunningly hidden from sight, dispelled the damp, and were kept turned on
night and day, "whether they were needed, or whether they were not," to
the delight and admiration of the Irish staff. For pure extravagance,
for pure pagan delight in extravagance, the Irishman _and_ woman are
hard to beat. The very warmth and generosity of their nature makes it
abhorrent to them to stint in any direction, which is one reason, out of
many, for the prevailing poverty of the land.

Jack and Sylvia made delightful hosts, and it was a very happy and a
very merry quartette which passed those spring days together in Knock
Castle. They were complete in themselves, and any suggestion of "a
party" was instantly vetoed by the visitors, who announced their desire
to remain "just as we are."

Sylvia and Pixie rode or drove about the country, pulling up every half
mile or so to chat with cottagers, who were all eager to see Miss Pixie,
to invoke blessings on her head, and--begging her honour's pardon!--to
sigh a