“And I’m sure I’m not surprised,” said Rosy Myers.

“Stuck-up thing!” said Clara Sawyer.

“Dirt beneath our feet!” exclaimed Hannah Johnson.

“Well; she doesn’t like her either, though she doesn’t use that kind of language,” continued Susy.  “Anyhow, she wants to befriend us—­Oh, do let me speak!”—­as Kate interrupted with a hasty exclamation.  “She thinks that we are just as good as herself.  There is no false pride about a real lady, girls; and the end of it is that she has a plan to propose—­something for our benefit and for her benefit.  See for yourselves; this is her letter.  It is in her own beautiful Irish, handwriting.  You can read it, only don’t tear it all to bits.”

The girls did read the letter.  They pressed close together, and one peeped over the shoulder of her companion, another stood on tiptoe, while a third tried to snatch the letter from the hand of her fellow; but all managed to read the words:  “Get as many foundation girls as you can to meet me, at whatever place you like to appoint, this evening.  I have a plan to propose.”  This letter and the end of the postscript excited the girls; there was no doubt whatever of that.  “The plan is gloryious.”  They laughed at the word, smiled into each others’ faces, and stood very close together consulting.

“The old quarry,” whispered Rosy.

“That’s the place!” exclaimed Mary.

“Let us meet her, we seven by ourselves,” was Kate’s final suggestion.  “We will then know what she wants, and if there is anything in it.  We can form a committee, and get other girls to join by degrees.  Hurrah!  I do say this is fun.”

Susy was now quite petted by her companions.  The conference hastily ended, and on entering the school Susy pinned a piece of paper under Kathleen’s desk, on which she wrote:  “The old quarry; nine o’clock this evening.  Will meet you at a quarter to nine outside Mrs. Tennant’s house.”

When Kathleen received the communication her eyes flashed with delighted fire.  She thrust the letter into her pocket and proceeded with her work.  The Irish girl looked quite happy that day; she had something to interest her at last.  Her lessons, too, were by no means distasteful.  She had a great deal of quick wit and ready perception.  Hitherto she had been taught anyhow, but now she was all keen to receive real instruction.  Her intuitions were rapid indeed; she could come to startlingly quick conclusions, and as a rule her guesses were correct rather than otherwise.  Kathleen had a passion for music; she had never been properly taught, but the soul of music was in her as much as it was in David Tennant.  She had a beautiful melodious voice, which had, of course, not yet come to maturity.  Just before the end of the morning she took her first lesson in music.  Her mistress was a very amiable and clever woman of the name of Agnes Spicer.  Miss Spicer put a sheet of music before her.