like that of the--the beloved old place?"

"Come, come, Nora, if you are going into heroics I think I'll be off
to bed," said Terence, yawning.

"No, you won't; you must listen. I have got something most important
to say."

"Well, then, I will give you five minutes; not another moment. I
know you, Nora; you always exaggerate things. You are an Irishwoman
to your backbone."

"I am, and I glory in the fact."

"You ought to be ashamed to glory in it. Don't you want to have
anything to do with mother and her relations?"

"I love my mother, but I am glad I don't take after her," said Nora;
"yes, I am glad."

The moon shone on the two young faces, and Nora looked up at her
brother; he put on a supercilious smile, and folded his arms across
his broad chest.

"Yes," she replied; "and I should like to shake you for looking like
that. I am glad I am Irish through and through and _through_.
Would I give my warm heart and my enthusiasm for your coldness and
deliberation?"

"Good gracious, Nora, what a little ignorant thing you are! Do you