"Good-bye, Norah," said she.

I saw Norah turn and run up among
the trees, almost as swiftly and silently
as a hare. Once, she turned to look
back. I was watching, and caught the
chance to wave my hand to her.

"Come!" commanded mother, and
we went back to where father was sit-
ting.

"What do you think!" said mother.
"I found the child playing with one of
the Bad Madigans. Isn't she a sight!"

The lump in my throat swelled to a
terrible size; something buzzed in my
ears, and I heard some one weeping.
For a second or two I didn't realise that
it was myself.

"Well, never mind, dear," said
mother's voice soothingly. "The frock
will wash, and the tear will mend, and
the shoes will black. Yes, and the
scratches will heal."

"It isn't that," I sobbed. "Oh, oh,
it isn't that!"