on't do it any
more. Now you are dressed; that's fine. You won't hate me forever, will
you?"

Alice growled something in reply. She had not Kathleen's passionate,
quick, impulsive nature--furious with rage one minute, sweet and gentle
and affectionate the next. She hated Kathleen for having humiliated and
annoyed her; and she went off to Cassandra's house knowing that she
would be late, and determined not to say one good word for Kathleen.

CHAPTER V.

WIT AND GENIUS: THE PLAN PROPOUNDED.

While Kathleen was locked in Alice's room, she was writing to her
father:

"MY DARLING DADDY.--If ever there was a cold, dreary,
abominable land, it is this where they wave the British flag.
The ugliness of it would make you sick. The people are as ugly
as the country, and they're so stiff and stuck-up. If you
suppose for a moment that your wild Irish girl can stand much
of this sort of thing, you are fine and mistaken, and you can
tell the mother so. I mean to write to Aunt Katie O'Flynn
to-morrow and give her a fine piece of my mind. Early in the
day, dad, I did not think that I could stay at all; but I have
got a plan in my head now, and if I succeed I may at least put
up with one term of this detestable school. I won't tell you
the plan, for you mightn't approve; in fact, I can guess in
advance that you wouldn't approve. Anyhow, it is going to
occupy the time and thoughts of your Kathleen. Now I want a
good bit of money; not a pound or even five pounds, but more
than that. Can you send me a ten-pound note, daddy mine, and
say nothing whatever about it to the mother or the retainers
at Carrigrohane? And can you let me have it as quick as quick
can be? Maybe I will want more before the term is up, or maybe
I won't. Anyhow, we will let that lie in the future. Oh, my
broth of an old dad, wouldn't I like to hug you this blessed
minute? How is everybody at home? How are the mountains? How
is the sea? How is the trout-stream? Are those young cousins
of mine behaving themselves, the spalpeens? And how are you,
my heart of hearts--missing your Kathleen, I doubt not? Well,
no more for the present. They're rattling at the door like
anything, and there's a detestable boy now whistling 'Garry
Owen' right into my heart. You can't imagine what I am
feeling. Oh, the omadhaun! he is changi