ghteen, the quality of mercy has seldom developed;
the young demand mercy, they expect to receive, not to bestow it; but
in this girl was something that made her different from her fellows.
It was as though a soul more tempered, more instructed, more subtle
and refined, had been given to her, than is vouchsafed to the majority
of the poor creatures who are sent into this difficult world with an
equipment that rarely meets its demands.

This is a long-winded way of saying that Christian realised that she
had to restore confidence in Larry's young friend, and that she
proceeded forthwith to do so. She would have laughed at the thought
that anyone could be afraid of her, but she felt instinctively that a
soothing monologue, a sort of cradle-song, was what the occasion
demanded; so she began to speak of the bluebells, the woods, the
weather, saying with a sort of languid simplicity, the things that the
moment suggested; "babbling," as she subsequently assured Judith, "of
green fields," until she had so lulled and bored him, that in
self-defence he produced an observation.

"D'you read, Miss Christian?" said Barty, bringing forth his mouse
with an abrupt and mountainous effort.

Christian repressed the reply that she had possessed the
accomplishment for some years, and asked for further information.

"Poetry," said Barty, largely; "it's--it's the only reading I care
for. I thought you might like it--" he added, hurriedly, and was again
wrapped in the cocoon.

"Oh, I do, very much," said Christian, trying hard not to quench the
smoking flax; "I've learnt quantities by heart, and Larry is always
lending me new books of poetry. He says that you and he discuss it
together."

"I never knew one like him!" said Barty, with sudden energy. "There's
no subject at all that he's not interested in!" In the heat of his
enthusiasm for Larry, the cocoon wrappings were temporarily
shrivelled. He turned his dark short-sighted eyes on Christian, and
took up his parable with excitement.

"Did he tell you he's learning Irish? I'll engage it'll be no trouble
to _him_!"

"He's always getting hold of new ideas," said Christian; "I wish
_I_ could learn Irish."

"There's a branch of the Gaelic League in Cluhir," said Barty,
eagerly. "There are a lot learning Irish. I suppose you wouldn't be
disposed to become a member, Miss Christian?" He gazed at her
imploringly.

"I don't know if I should be allowed," said Christian, hesitatingly.
"Y