"I don't know that we do," said Bessie. "You see we have got to make
your acquaintance yet, Kitty."

"Ah, now it's nice of you to call me Kitty, and that's a very pretty
little voice you have; soft and winning. How is it you say some of those
words? I can't get my tongue round them; but I dare say I will after a
bit."

"Would you like to know what kind of place we are going to?" asked
Bessie.

"Oh, I'll wait until I get there," answered Kitty. "I suppose it's like
all other places; there's a house and some girls; and if we are asked to
tea, why we'll get tea, and they'll think me no end of an oddity, and
I'll think them a lot of muffs; but that don't matter. Oh, my dears, if
you only saw Old Ireland, and if you only knew the free life we have
there, and the beautiful air that comes blowing in from the broad
Atlantic. Why, it's smothered I'll be in this queer place. I doubt if
I'll stay long. I'll write to father, and ask him to take me back
again."

"I would if I were you," said Alice stoutly.

"Now, what do you mean by that, 'Alice, aroon?'"

"I mean," said Alice, who had now almost lost control over her temper,
"that if you go on as you have done since you came here, we shall none
of us like you, and I for one shall be delighted when you return to
Ireland."