trunk.  Be aisy with it, so that you won’t hurt it.  Take it up to my bedroom and put it on the floor.  Maybe there’s something in it for you, or maybe there isn’t—­Mrs. Tennant, acushla! you will come along upstairs with me at once.  You can bring your mending basket, and I will pop you into the arm-chair by the window, and we can consult together over the garments.  It’s fine I’ll look when I have them on.  Aunt Katie O’Flynn is a woman who has real taste, and I know she is going to dress me up as no other girl ever was dressed before in the Great Shirley School.”

Mrs. Tennant could not help laughing.  The boys were also in the highest good-humor; Kathleen’s mirth was contagious.  They went upstairs to the bedroom, and then Ben saucily perched himself on the foot of one of the beds; while David, having brought up a hammer and screwdriver, proceeded to lift the lid of the box, which was firmly nailed down.  Under the lid was a lot of tissue-paper.  Kathleen went on her knees, lifted it up, uttered a shout, and turned to the boys.

“You make off now,” she said.

“No, indeed I won’t,” said Ben.  “I want to see the fun.”

“Go, both of you.  There will be something nice for you when you come back to tea,” said Kathleen.

They looked regretful, but saw nothing for it but to go.  Kathleen in a breathless sort of way, scarcely uttering a word, spread out her treasures on the bed.  Was there ever such a box?  Skirts, bodices, blouses, shirts; an evening dress, an afternoon dress, a morning dress—­they seemed simply endless.  Then there were frills and ribbons and veils; there were two great, big, very stylish-looking hats, with long plumes; and there was a little toque made of crimson velvet, which Kathleen declared was quite too sweet for anything.  There were also dozens of handkerchiefs, dozens of pairs of stockings, and some sweet little slippers all embroidered and fit for the most bewitching feet in the world.  Kathleen’s cheeks got redder and redder.

“Here’s a cargo for you,” she said.  “Here’s something to delight the heart.  Now, my dear Mrs. Tennant, let us come and examine everything.  Do you think I am utterly selfish, Mrs. Tennant?  Do you think I want all these things for myself?”

“I am sure you don’t, dear.”

“It quite makes me ache with longing to give some of them away.  I don’t want so many frocks:  there are a good dozen here all told.  Aunt Katie O’Flynn’s the one for extravagance, bless her! and for having a thing done in style, bless her!  I should like you to see her.  It’s splendacious she is entirely when she’s dressed up in her best—­velvet and feathers and laces and jewels.  Why, nothing holds her in bounds; there’s nothing she stops at.  I have seen her give hundreds of pounds for one little glittering gem.  Ah! and here’s a ring.  Look, Mrs. Tennant.”

Kathleen had now opened a small box which was lying at the bottom of the great trunk.  There were several treasures in it:  a necklet of glittering white stones, another of blue, another of red, and this little ring—­a little ring which contained a solitary diamond of the purest water.