ll
never forget what you have said to me to-day. It will help me through
many a dark hour!" he declared, and Sylvia blushed and gasped, and lay
back on her cushions, all tremulous with excitement. It was her first
experience of the art of flirtation, and she was pleased and flattered
as it was natural for a girl to be, but she was a sensible little woman,
despite her hasty speeches, and her vanity was not big enough to cloud
either her judgment or a remarkably accurate memory. She carefully
recalled to mind the late conversation, and found that her own share
therein had been limited to monosyllabic assents and denials; an
occasional, "Really!" and three or four exclamations of, "How sad!"

These, then, were the vaunted sympathy and counsel, these the eloquent
words which Mr Jack had vowed to treasure in deathless remembrance, and
which were to strengthen him in hours of trial! Sylvia blushed once
more, from mortification this time, and registered a vow to adopt a new
tone with this disciple of the Blarney stone, and put an end forthwith
to sentimental confidences. She was still looking hot and flurried when
Bridgie came into the room to prepare for tea, and to rest after the
day's labours.

"You look tired, dear!" she said anxiously. "I hope Jack has not been
talking too much. He just dotes upon romancing when he can get a
listener, and I didn't like to interrupt when I knew he had come home
especially to see you. Jack falls in love with every fresh girl he
meets, and they mostly fall in love with him too. He has such lovely
humbugging eyes!"

"Do they, indeed! He shan't humbug _me_, that's one thing certain!" was
Sylvia's mental comment. Aloud she assented cordially. "Most handsome
eyes! I call him unusually good-looking for a man, and he has amused me
very much, but I am more than ready for tea, and a little of your
society. There's the clatter of the cups. Welcome sound, it's music in
my ears! How I used to long for it when I was ill!"

"I'll draw the curtains and make the room look cosy. That is one good
thing about a tiny house--you can keep it warm. We were frozen in the
great draughty barns of rooms at Knock, and Pixie used to look so quaint
with her feet in snow-boots, and her hands in a muff, and her little
nose as red as a cherry. It was so cold that it kept her awake at
nights, until the Major bought an elegant little egg-cosy at a bazaar in
Dublin, and she slept in it regularly through