“But do you know anything about her?  The Irish are always so terribly poor.”

“She is not poor at all.  She has got an uncle and aunt in Chicago, and they are as rich as can be; and her uncle is coming to see her at Christmas.  And besides that, her father has an awfully old castle in the south-west of Ireland.  He is never troubled on account of the Land League or anything else, and Kathleen will have lots and lots of money.  I know she is paying mother well for giving her a home while she is being educated at the Shirley School.”

“I can’t imagine why she comes to our school if she is so rich,” said Mary.  “It seems almost unfair.  The Great Shirley School is not meant for rich girls:  a girl of the kind you have just described ought not to become a member of the school.”

“Oh, that is all very fine; but it seems her mother was educated here, and swore a sort of vow that when Kathleen was old enough she should come to this school and to no other.  Her mother’s name is Mrs. O’Hara, and she wrote to Miss Ravenscroft and asked if there was a vacancy for Kathleen, and if she knew of any one who would be nice to her and with whom she could live.  Miss Ravenscroft thought of mother; she knew that mother would like to have a boarder who would pay her well.  So the whole thing was settled; mother has been corresponding with Mrs. O’Hara, and Kathleen comes to-day.  I really can’t stay another moment, Mary.  I must rush home; there are no end of things to be attended to.”

“All right,” said Mary.  “I will watch for you and the beautiful Irish heiress—­”

“I don’t know that she is an heiress.”

“Well, whatever she is—­the bewitching Irish girl—­to-morrow morning.  Ta-ta for the present.”

Mary turned to the left, and Alice continued her walk.  She walked quickly.  She was a well-made, rather pretty girl of fifteen.  Her hair, very light in colour, hung down her back.  She had a determined walk and a good carriage.  As she hurried her steps she saw Ruth Craven, the pretty foundation girl, walking in front of her.  Ruth walked slowly and as if she were tired.  Once she pressed her hand to her side, and Alice, passing her, hesitated and looked back.  The face that met hers was so appealing and loving that she could not resist saying a word.

“Are you awfully tired, Ruth Craven?” she said.

“I shall get used to it,” replied Ruth.  “I have had a cold for the last few days.  Thank you so much, Miss Tennant!”

“Don’t thank me,” said Alice, frowning; “and don’t say ‘Miss Tennant,’ It isn’t good form in our school.  I hope you will be better to-morrow.  I am sure, at least, that you will like the school very much.”

“Thank you,” said the girl again.

The girls parted at the next corner.  When Ruth found herself alone she paused and looked behind her.  Tears rose to her eyes; she took out her handkerchief to wipe them away.  She paused as if troubled by some thought; then her face grew bright, and she stepped along more briskly.