"That what, child?"

"That we O'Shanaghgans are the proudest and oldest family in the
county, and that there is scarcely an Englishman across the water
who would not give all he possesses to change places with us."

"You talk like a silly child," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan; "and please
remember that I am English."

"Oh, mummy, I am so sorry!" said the girl. She laid her soft head
down on the sofa, pressing it against her mother's shoulder.

"I cannot think of you as English," she said. "You have lived here
all, all my life. You belong to father, and you belong to Terence
and me--what have you to do with the cold English?"

"I remember a time," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, "when I thought Ireland
the most desolate and God-forsaken place on the earth. It is true I
have become accustomed to it now. But, Nora, if you only could
realize what my old home was really like."

"I don't want to realize any home different from this," said the girl,
a cloud shading her bright eyes for the moment.

"You are silly and prejudiced," said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan. "It is a
great trial to me to have a daughter so unsympathetic."

"Oh, mummy! I don't mean to be unsympathetic. There now, we are
quite cozy together. Tell me one of the old stories; I do so love to