f
course--of course her grandfather is right. Her brain is of the right
order, and her mind is attuned to learning. How nicely he spoke, and how
beautiful he looked--how like my dear old grandfather who has been with
God for so many years now."

There came a loud rat-tat at the front-door. David went out and brought
in a telegram. It was addressed to Kathleen. She opened it in some
surprise, and read the contents slowly. There was amazement on her face;
a feeling of consternation stole into her heart. The telegram, not a
long one, was from her father:

"Have just seen Aunt Katie O'Flynn. Do not approve of your
society. Squash the whole thing at once, or expect my serious
displeasure.--O'HARA."

"Is there an answer?" asked David.

"No," said Kathleen. "I mean yes. Yes, I suppose so. Can I have a form?
Mrs. Tennant, can I have a telegraph form?"

Mrs. Tennant began to hunt about for one. Telegrams were by no means
common things at the Tennants' house. David suggested that the messenger
boy might have one. This turned out to be the case. Kathleen began to
write, but she suddenly changed her mind.

"No, no; there is no answer," she said. "I can write by post."

She crushed the telegram up and thrust it into her pocket. After this
she went out for a little; she was too restless to stay still. The
fascination of the coming sport grew greater as obstacles appeared in
the way of its realization. Whatever her father might say, she could not
desert the girls who belonged to her society now.

"What can have ailed Aunt Katie to betray me in such a fashion?" she
thought.

She came home in time for tea; but, to her amazement she found another
telegram waiting for her. This was from Dublin, from Aunt Katie herself:

"Have told your father. He received letter from
school-mistress this morning. Very angry about Wild Irish
Girls. You must give the whole thing up or you will incur his
serious displeasure. Don't be a goose; nip the thing in the
bud immediately.--AUNT KATIE."

"But indeed I won't," thought Kathleen. "Whatever happens, we will have
our fun to-night. Whatever happens, neither father nor Aunt Katie, nor
Ruth Craven can keep me back."

CHAPTER XXV.

KATHLEEN HAS A GOOD TIME IN LONDON.

So the head-mistress had written; she had dared to write to Kathleen's
father. What she said to him was a matter of no moment; she had written,
and to complain of her!

"She thi