pon my telling you, I should like to get up a
lace-making industry among the girls in our village. I read an article
in a magazine about someone who had revived the old Honiton patterns at
a place in Devonshire."

"A few of the women make lace in our neighbourhood," said Honor.

"How splendid! Then you could start the same at Kilmore, and we could
keep comparing notes, and get specimens sent to exhibitions--the 'Irish
Industries', you know, or 'Peasants' Handicrafts'. It's such a pity
that everything should be done by machinery nowadays! Why, you might
have quite a thriving colony of lacemakers at Kilmore--the women could
be working at their 'pillows' while the men are out fishing. If I begin
at Redcliffe, will you promise to try the experiment too?"

Such a proposal as introducing a new occupation for the tenants on her
father's demesne almost took Honor's breath away; yet to her active
mind it was rather attractive, and she drew a rapid mental picture of
the little barefooted colleens of Kilmore seated at their cabin doors,
plying the bobbins with deft fingers. Janie's ardour was infectious,
and if Honor were not yet ready to agree to all her plans, at least she
caught enough enthusiasm to be interested in the subject, and to admit
that it was a dream worthy some day of realization.

In the meantime, the ordinary school course gave ample scope for the
energies of both girls. Janie, though a great reader, was backward in
many subjects, and was obliged to study hard to keep up with the rest
of the class; while Honor, naturally far more clever, had not been
accustomed to apply her brains in any systematic fashion. The work of
the Lower Third was stiff enough to need constant application, unless
the girls wished to earn the reputation of "slackers", a distinction
which neither coveted. Besides their mental exertions, Honor, at any
rate, wished to maintain her credit in the playing-fields. Janie had
long ago given up all hope of becoming a good cricketer, or even a
moderate tennis player. She was not fond of exercise. To use her own
phrase, she "hated to be made to run about". Her ideal of bliss was to
be left to wander round the grounds with a book; but as this was
permitted only on Sundays, she was forced on weekdays, much against her
inclination, to take her due part in the games. She even went the
length of envying Muriel Cunliffe, whose sprained ankle did not allow
her to hobble farther than the garden for five wee