ng it now into 'St.
Patrick's Day,' Wisha, then, daddy! I must stop, for it's more
than the heart of woman can stand. Your affectionate daughter,

"KATHLEEN."

This letter was posted by Kathleen herself. After supper she went with
David into the old loft over the tumble-down stables. It was not a very
safe place of refuge, for the rafters were rotten and might tumble down
at any time. Still, the sense of danger made it all, the more
interesting to the children. There they sat side by side, and Kathleen
told David about her old life. She was very outspoken and affectionate,
and very fierce and very wild. To look at her, one would have said there
never was any one less reserved; but Kathleen in her heart of hearts was
intensely reserved. Her real feelings she never told; her real hopes she
never breathed. She talked with high spirits all the time; and although
she liked David and was much comforted by his words and his actions, he
did not get at the real Kathleen at all.

When Alice came back that evening Kathleen was sound asleep in her
little bed, dreaming of Carrigrohane and the old home. She was murmuring
some loving words as Alice entered the room.

"Oh, daddy mine, my heart is sore for you," she was saying in a tone
which caused Alice to pause and look at her attentively.

"She is the most awful girl I ever heard of," thought Alice. "I am sure
she will get us into trouble. I know that those three guineas a week
that mother gets for having her are not worth all the mischief she will
drag us into. But still, she does look pretty when she is asleep."

Kathleen had very long and very thick eyelashes and nobly arched brows.
Her forehead was broad and full and beautifully white. The mischievous,
dare-devil expression of her face when awake was softened in her sleep.
Alice, who had determined to come very noisily into the room and bang
her things about, to take rude possession of her own half of the
room--which, after all, was the better half--was softened by the look
on the girl's face. She knelt for a moment at her bedside and prayed
that God would keep her from quite hating Kathleen. This was a great
deal from Alice, who had made up her mind never to be friends with the
Irish girl. Then she got into bed and fell asleep.

The next morning, quite early, Kathleen was up. She was accustomed to
getting up almost at cock-crow at Carrigrohane, and when Alice opened
her eyes, it was to see an empty bed and