w than that which since her birth had presented itself before
Kathleen's young eyes. Her father, Squire O'Hara, was, as landlords in
Ireland go, very well off. His tenantry adored him. He got in his rents
with tolerable regularity. He was a good landlord, firm but also kind
and indulgent. A real case of distress was never turned away from his
doors, but where rent could be paid he insisted on the cottars giving
him his due. He kept a rather wild establishment, however. His wife was
an Irishwoman from a neighboring county, and had some of the most
careless attributes of her race. The house got along anyhow. There were
always shoals of visitors, mostly relatives. There were heavy feasts in
the old hall, and sittings up very late at night, and no end of hunting
and fishing and shooting in their seasons. In the summer a pretty white
yacht made a great "divartisement," as the Squire was fond of saying;
and in all things Kathleen O'Hara was free as the air she breathed. She
was educated in a sort of fashion by an Irish governess, but in reality
she was allowed to pursue her lessons exactly as she liked best herself.

It was just before she was fifteen that Kathleen's aunt, a maiden lady
from Dublin, who rejoiced in the truly Irish name of O'Flynn, came to
see them, remarked on Kathleen's wild, unkempt appearance, declared that
the girl would be a downright beauty when she was eighteen, said that no
one would tolerate such a want of knowledge in the present day, and
advised that she should go to school. Mrs. O'Hara took Miss O'Flynn's
hint very much to heart. Kathleen was consulted, and of course tabooed
the entire scheme; in the end, however, the elder ladies carried the
day. Miss O'Flynn took her niece to Dublin with her, and gave her an
expensive and very unnecessary wardrobe; and Mrs. O'Hara, having heard a
great deal of Mrs. Tennant, who had Irish relatives, decided that
Kathleen should go to the Great Shirley School, where she herself had
been educated long ago. Everything was arranged in a great hurry. It
seemed to Kathleen now, as she lay on her bed, kicking her feet
impatiently, and ruffled her beautiful hair, that the thing had come to
pass in a flash. It seemed only yesterday that she was at home in the
old house, petted by the servants, adored by her father, worshipped by
all her relatives--the young queen of the castle, free as the air,
followed by her dogs, riding on her pony--and now she was here in this
hideous,