He said it with tears in his eyes, he did, the darling; and I promised,
and down on my knees I went and asked God to help me. But, dear, it's
like the froth of the sea-foam inside me, the fun and the mischief and
the nonsense and the ways that you think queer; but, all the same, those
ways delight the good folk at home. Must I really give them up,
Bessie--must I?"

"To a certain extent," said Bessie, "or you will have a lot of enemies
here, Kitty, and you won't be at all happy."

"How I wish I lived with you, Bessie Challoner. You're a broth of a
girl, that you are. You have not taken a dislike to me just because of
the fun bubbling up in my heart?"

"No, dear; on the contrary, I like you extremely."

"Ah, you precious duck of a darling! It is a good squeeze you would
like, if I gave it to you?"

"Well, I am not very fond of being kissed; but if you must, Kitty."

"I must, dear, I must, for the heart in me is full to the brim. Now
then, stand still, and I'll catch you up close to my heart. There! isn't
that better?"

Poor Bessie gave some long-drawn breaths, for the firmness, in fact the
ferocity, of Kitty's embrace quite hurt her for a moment.

"There," said Kitty, "that's the way we hug in Old Ireland. Now I'm a
sight better, and I'll let go. So you do like me, Bessie?"