Miss Ravenscroft was standing by her window.  She turned when Kathleen appeared, and desired her to sit down.  Kathleen dropped into a chair.  Miss Ravenscroft did likewise.  Then Miss Ravenscroft spoke gently, for in spite of herself Kathleen’s attractive face, the wilful, daring, and yet affectionate glance in the eyes, attracted her.  She had not yet had a full and perfect view of Kathleen.  She had seen, it is true, the pretty little girl in a crowd of others; but now she saw Kathleen by herself.  The face was undoubtedly sweet—­sweet with a radiance which surprised and partly fascinated Miss Ravenscroft.

“Your name?” she said.

“Kathleen O’Hara,” replied Kathleen.

She rose to her feet and dropped a little bobbing curtsy, then waited to be asked to sit down again.  Miss Ravenscroft did not invite her to reseat herself.  She spoke quietly, turning her eyes away from the attractive little face and handsome figure.

“I sent for you last night and you did not obey my command.  Why so?”

“I did not mean to be rude,” said Kathleen.  “You see, it was this way.  My aunt from Ireland (Miss O’Flynn is her name—­Miss Katie O’Flynn) was staying at the Metropole.  I had a telegram from her desiring me to go to her immediately in town.  I got your note after I had read the telegram.  It seemed to me that I ought to go first to my aunt.  She is my mother’s own sister, and such a darling.  You couldn’t but love her if you saw her.  You might think me a little rude not to come to you when you sent for me, but Aunt Katie would have been hurt—­terribly, fearfully hurt.  She might even have cried.”

Kathleen raised her brows as she said the last word; her face expressed consternation and a trifle of amazement.  Miss Ravenscroft felt as though smiles were very near.

“Even suppose your aunt had cried,” she said, “your duty was to me as your head-mistress.”

“Please,” said Kathleen, “I did not think it was.  I thought my duty was to my aunt.”

Miss Ravenscroft was silent for a minute.

“My dear,” she said then gently, “you are new to the school.  You have doubtless indulged in a very free-and-easy and unconventional life in your own country.  I was once in Ireland, in the west, and I liked the people and the land, and the ways of the people and the looks of the land, and for the sake of that visit I am not going to be hard on a little Irish girl during her first sojourn in the school.  In future, Kathleen O’Hara, I must insist on instant obedience.  I will forgive you for your disregard of my message last night, but if ever I require you again I shall expect you to come to me at once.  For the present we will forget last night.”

“Thank you, madam.  I am sure I should love you very much if I knew you well.”