made of solid silver for Ben, and a keyless
silver watch for David; and what could boys possibly want more? Kathleen
had remembered all her friends, and Aunt Katie O'Flynn was more than
willing to carry out her request.

Finally, at the very bottom of the trunk was a little parcel which she
refrained from opening while Mrs. Tennant was present. It contained the
badges of the new society. Kathleen had decided that they were to call
themselves "The Wild Irish Girls," and this title was neatly engraved on
the little badges, which were of the shape of hearts. Below the name was
the device--a harp with a bit of shamrock trailing round it. The badges
were small and exceedingly neat, and there were about sixty of them in
all.

"Now then, I can go ahead," thought Kathleen. "What with the finery for
my dear, darling chosen ones, and the badges for all the members, I
shall do."

She was utterly reckless with regard to expense. Her father was rich,
and he did not mind what he spent on his only child. The box seemed to
fill up every crevice of her heart, as she expressed it, and it was a
very happy girl who dressed to go to the Weldons' that evening.
Kathleen was intensely affectionate, and would have done anything in the
world to please Mrs. Tennant; but when it came to wearing a very quiet
gray dress with a little lace round the collar and cuffs, she begun to
demur.

"It can't be done," she thought. "Half of them will be in gray and half
of them in brown, and a few old dowdies will perhaps be in black. But I
must be gay; it isn't fair to Aunt Katie to be anything else."

She made a wild and scarcely judicious selection. She put on crimson
silk stockings, and tucked into her bag a pair of crimson satin shoes.
Her dress consisted of a black velvet skirt over a crimson petticoat,
and her bodice was of crimson silk very much embroidered and with
elbow-sleeves. Round her neck she wore innumerable beads of every
possible color, and twisted through her lovely hair were some more
beads, which shone as the light fell on them. Altogether it was a very
bizarre and fascinating little figure that appeared that evening at the
Weldons' hall door. Over her showy dress she wore a long opera-cloak, so
that at first her splendors were not fully visible. This gaily dressed
little person entered a room full of sober people. The effect was
somewhat the same as though a gorgeous butterfly had flown into the
room. She lit up the dullness and made