of Castle Conor, she and Kate would ride out to look at them; and if
papa was not there that day,--an omission of rare occurrence,--they
would ride a few fields with the hounds.

"But he lets Tizzy keep with them the whole day," said she,
whispering.

"And has Tizzy a pony of her own?"

"Oh yes, Tizzy has everything. She's papa's pet, you know."

"And whose pet are you?" I asked.

"Oh--I am nobody's pet, unless sometimes Jack makes a pet of me when
he's in a good humour. Do you make pets of your sisters, Mr. Green?"

"I have none. But if I had I should not make pets of them."

"Not of your own sisters?"

"No. As for myself, I'd sooner make a pet of my friend's sister; a
great deal."

"How very unnatural," said Miss O'Conor, with the prettiest look of
surprise imaginable.

"Not at all unnatural I think," said I, looking tenderly and lovingly
into her face. Where does one find girls so pretty, so easy, so
sweet, so talkative as the Irish girls? And then with all their
talking and all their ease who ever hears of their misbehaving? They