looked without enthusiasm at the knitted woollen coat, and with
marked disfavour at the white sailor hat, with its band of orange
ribbon.

"I can't wear that!" she ejaculated.

"Why not?" enquired Vivian, in surprise.

"There's an orange band round it."

"Orange is the St. Chad's colour," explained Vivian. "We all have
exactly the same hats at Chessington, but each house has its own
special ribbon--blue for the School House, pink for St. Aldwyth's,
scarlet for St. Hilary's, and violet for St. Bride's. I thought you
knew that already."

"If I had, I'd have insisted upon going to another house," declared
Honor tragically. "You ask me to wear orange? Why, the very name of
'Orangeman' sets my teeth on edge. I'm a Nationalist to the last drop
of my blood; we all are, down in Kerry."

Vivian smiled.

"Don't be absurd!" she said, in rather an off-hand manner. "Our hats
have nothing whatever to do with politics. Here are two long pins, but
if you prefer an elastic you can stitch one on," and without deigning
to argue further she walked away.

Honor stood turning the hat round and round, with a very queer
expression on her face. She was a devoted daughter of Erin. Her
country's former glories and the possible brilliance of its future as a
separate kingdom could always provoke her wildest enthusiasm; to be
asked, therefore, to don the colour which in her native land stood as
the symbol of the union with England, and for direct opposition to
national independence, seemed to her little short of an insult to her
dear Emerald Isle. There were still five minutes left before she need
start for chapel, so, making up her mind suddenly, she rushed upstairs
to her bedroom. She would show these Saxons that she was a true Celt!
They might compel her to wear their emblem of bondage, but it should be
with an addition that would proclaim her patriotic sentiments to the
world.

Hurriedly hunting in her top drawer, she produced a yard of vivid green
ribbon and the bunch of imitation shamrock that old Mary O'Grady had
given her as a parting present. Then she set to work on a piece of
amateur millinery. There was little time to use needle and thread, but
with the aid of pins she managed to twist the ribbon into several
loops, and to fasten the shamrock conspicuously in front. She looked at
the result of her labours with great approval.

"One could almost imagine it was St. Patrick's Day," she said to
herself. "Nobody could possibly m