"Orderly, is it?" cried Kathleen. "I don't know the meaning of the word.
Well, all right, I'm ready."

She pushed her fingers through her tangled golden hair, and, without
glancing at herself in the glass, marched out of the room.

"I wish mother hadn't asked her to come," said Alice to herself. "The
house was bad enough before, but now she will make things past bearing."

Alice went downstairs to the sound of a cracked gong. The Tennants had
their meals in a sitting-room on the second floor. It was barely
furnished, and had kamptulicon instead of a carpet on the floor. Mrs.
Tennant, looking careworn and anxious, was seated at the head of the
table; her dress was somewhat faded. Alice entered and took her seat at
the foot. Kathleen was nowhere to be seen.

"I have only soup and fish for dinner to-day," said Mrs. Tennant. "I do
trust Kathleen will be satisfied."

Alice frowned at her mother in some displeasure.

"We ought to have meat--" she was beginning, when there came a bang and
a scuffle, a girlish laugh, and Kathleen, leaning fondly on both the
boys, appeared. Mrs. Tennant pointed to a seat, and she sat down. The
Irish girl had a healthy appetite, and was indifferent to what she ate.
She demanded two plates of soup, and when she had finished the second
she looked at Mrs. Tennant and said emphatically:

"I have fallen in love."