nd distinction about her. Mrs.
Church seemed to sniff the fine quality air in a moment; she even
managed to rise from her chair and drop a little curtsy.

"If it weren't for the rheumatics," she said, "I wouldn't make so bold
as to sit before you, miss."

"But why shouldn't you? I'm sorry you suffer from rheumatism. May I
bring a chair and come and sit near you? Are you Mrs. Hopkins--Susy
Hopkins's mother?"

"Indeed, my dear, I'm truly thankful to say I am not. And what may your
name be, my sweet young lady?"

"Kathleen O'Hara."

"Oh, dear, but it's a mouthful."

"I'm not English," said Kathleen; "I'm Irish. Do you know, in our
country we have old ladies something like you. A good many of them have
dresses like you; and they live in little cottages, and we bring them up
to the castle and give them good food very, very often. There are twelve
of them, and they all live in their tiny cottages close to each other.
We make a great fuss about them. They love to come to the castle for
tea."

"The castle!" said Mrs. Church, more and more impressed. "I should
think they would like it. Who wouldn't like it? It's a very great honor
for an old lady to be entertained to her tea in a castle. And so you
live in a castle, my bonny young lady?"

"Yes; my father owns Carrigrohane Castle."

"Eh, love! it is a mouthful of a word for me to get round my lips. But
never mind; it is but to look at you to see how beautiful and good you
are."

"And you are beautiful, too," said Kathleen. "I mean, you are beautiful
for an old lady. I love the beauty of the old. But I want to see Mrs.
Hopkins, and I want to see Susy. Susy is a great friend of mine."

Mrs. Church opened her eyes very wide; her mouth formed itself into a
round O. An eager exclamation was about to burst from her lips, but she
restrained herself.

"And a very good little girl Susan Hopkins is," she said, after a
moment's pause; "and a particularly great friend of mine, being, so to
speak, my grand-niece.--Mary, my dear, call your little girl in."

Mrs. Hopkins, in some trepidation, crossed the room and called to Susy,
who was still sulking in the shop.

"My visitor and all," she kept saying. "And I wanted to have her all to
myself; I had such a lot to say to her. I never saw anybody quite so
horrible as Aunt Church is to-day."

"Never mind, Susy; never mind," said her mother. "The young lady is
pleasing your aunt like anything, and she has sent for you."

"Come