d.

"I wish the little Irish girl wouldn't make us figures of fun," said
Ben, speaking in an annoyed tone.

The next instant David had opened the door with his latchkey, and
Kathleen was waiting for them in the hall.

"Sausages," she said, bringing out the word with great gusto, "and
shrimps, and water-cress, and sardines, besides bread-and-butter galore,
and nice hot tea. Maria is making fresh tea now in the kitchen. Come
along in--do; you must be ravenous."

The boys stared at her. Ben forgot his anger; he was schoolboy enough to
thoroughly enjoy the delicious meal which Kathleen had prepared.

When it came to an end David jumped up impatiently.

"Where are you going, Dave?" asked Kathleen in an interested voice. She
wanted him to help her. She had hoped that he and she would go away to
the old loft together, and talk as they had done the night before. But
David was firm.

"I am going to the church," he said, "to practice on the organ. I only
get the chance three times a week, and I must not neglect it."

"David hopes to be no end of a swell some day," remarked Ben. "He thinks
he can make the instrument speak."

"And so can I," said Kathleen. "May I come with you, Dave?"

"Some day," he replied, looking at her kindly, "but not to-day. I'll be
back as soon as I can."

David did not notice her disappointed face; he went out immediately,
without even going upstairs first. Ben and Kathleen were now alone.
Kathleen looked at him attentively.

"I wonder--" she said slowly.

"What are you staring at me for?" said Ben.

"I have been wondering what sort you are. I have got cousins at home,
and they do anything in the world I like. I wonder if you would."

Ben had been very cross with Kathleen when she had knocked to him and
David from the dining-room window, but he was not cross now. He was only
thirteen, and up to the present no pretty girl had ever taken the
slightest notice of him. He was a plain, sandy-haired boy, with a
freckled face, a wide mouth, and good-humored blue eyes.

"You make me laugh whenever I look at you," was Kathleen's next candid
remark.

"I didn't know that I was so comical," was his answer.

"Perhaps you don't like it."

"I can't say I do."

"Well, this is the Palace of Home Truths," said Kathleen, laughing. "I
asked your darling, saintly sister just now which was the most
wicked--to tell a polite lie, or a frightfully rude home truth. She said
that a polite lie was an awful si