thy Arkwright. "I call that an
extremely cheap form of wit."

"Irish names are often rather peculiar," drawled Claudia Hammond-Smith.

"They're quite as good as English ones, and sometimes a great deal more
ancient and aristocratic," returned Honor.

"One for Claudia, and for Flossie Taylor too!" said Dorothy to Chatty
Burns.

"Paddy, for instance," interposed Flossie, who saw that the Lawsons
were listening, as well as her cousins. "St. Patrick and pigs always go
together, in my mind. I suppose you keep a pig in Ireland?"

"Don't answer her!" whispered Honor's neighbour. "They're only teasing
you because you're new. They want to see how much you'll stand."

But poor Honor was unaccustomed as yet to schoolgirl banter, and could
not abstain from replying:

"Does it matter whether we do or not?"

She spoke quietly, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if her temper
were rising.

"Not in the least! I only thought all Irish people cultivated pigs."

"It's no worse than keeping a cat, or a dog."

"My dear Paddy, of course not! Still, I shouldn't care to have the
creatures in the drawing-room. Take a little more bread and butter. I'm
sorry we've no potatoes to offer you."

The Hammond-Smiths and the Lawsons tittered, and Dorothy Arkwright was
about to state her frank opinion of their behaviour when Honor's
pent-up wrath exploded.

"We don't keep pigs in the drawing-room," she exclaimed. "There's a
saying that it takes nine tailors to make a man, so if your name is
Taylor you can only be the ninth part of a lady!" Then, realizing that
her upraised voice had drawn upon her the attention, not only of all
the girls, but also of Miss Maitland, she flushed crimson, scraped back
her chair, and fled precipitately from the room.

Miss Maitland looked surprised. It was an unheard-of thing for any girl
to leave the tea-table without permission. Such a breach of school
decorum had surely never been committed before at St. Chad's! There was
a very complete code of etiquette observed at the house, and to break
one of the laws of politeness was considered an unpardonable offence.

"She's made a bad beginning," whispered Ruth Latimer to Maisie Talbot.
"It's most unfortunate. It was really the fault of Flossie Taylor and
the Hammond-Smiths. They needn't have teased her so."

"Still, it was silly of her to lose her temper," replied Maisie. "She
stalked out of the room like a queen of tragedy. Miss Maitland can't
bear girls