Alice very nearly stamped her foot.  She went so far as to beg and implore of Kathleen, but Kathleen was imperturbable.

“You are very naughty, Kathleen,” said Mrs. Tennant, but Kathleen ran up to her and kissed her.

“You and I will have some fun, perhaps, this afternoon,” she said.  “I have got a lot of new plans in my head; they are all about you, and to make you happy and not so tired.  Don’t be cross with me.  I’ll promise that I will never be naughty again after to-day.”

Mrs. Tennant said nothing more.  A minute or two later Alice left the house.

It was quite an hour after Alice had departed that Kathleen took it into her head that she might as well stroll towards the school.  On Saturdays school was over a little earlier than other days.  There was a special class which she was anxious not to miss, for in spite of herself she was becoming interested in certain portions of her lessons.  Her depression had now left her, and she felt excited, but at the same time irritated.  A spirit of defiance came over her.  She went upstairs and selected from her heterogeneous wardrobe one of her very prettiest and most fashionable and most unsuitable dresses.  She put on a hat trimmed with flowers and feathers, and a sash of many colors round her waist.  Over all she slipped her dark-blue velvet jacket, and with rich sables round her neck and wrists, she ran downstairs.

“Why, Kathleen, any one would suppose you were going to a concert,” said Mrs. Tennant.

“Ah, my dear good friend, I like to look jolly once in a way.  I am certain to get a bad mark for unpunctuality, so I may as well get it looking my best as my worst.  You don’t blame me for that, do you?”

“No.  Go off now, dear, and don’t let me find you so troublesome again.”

Kathleen started off.  She ran across the common, and reached the doors of the great school exactly one hour after she ought to have arrived.  To her amazement, she saw quite a crowd of people waiting outside, and amongst them was Mrs. Hopkins.  There were several other mothers as well, and when they saw Kathleen they turned their backs on her, and one or two were heard to say aloud: 

“It’s she who has done it.”

But Mrs. Hopkins did not turn her back on Kathleen; she came close to her, and even took her hand.

“Why are you late, miss?” she said.  “But perhaps it is best.  Miss O’Hara, you won’t forget my poor aunt; you will be sure to get her the little almshouse in Ireland?”

“Yes, of course I will,” said Kathleen.  “Aunt Katie has written about it already, and I will write to-night.  You may tell Mrs. Church that it is absolutely quite certain that she will get it.  What is the matter, Mrs. Hopkins?  How strange you look!  And all those other women—­they seem quite cross with me.  What have I done?”

“Ah, miss!  I keep saying to them that it is because you are Irish and don’t know frolic from serious mischief.  Bless your heart, miss! it is you that are kind.  You mean kindly—­no one more so—­and so I have said to them.”