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 changing 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."