mrs. hartrick made all necessary arrangements, and on the following monday nora accompanied her cousin to school. molly was much delighted.

“now i shall be able to work,” she said, “and i won't be guilty of slang when you are by. don't whisper it to linda. she would be in the seventh heaven of bliss, and i detest pleasing her; but i would do anything in the world for you, nora creena.”

nora gave her cousin's arm an affectionate squeeze.

“i have never been to school,” said nora; “you must instruct me what i am to do.”

“oh, dear, dear!” said molly, “you won't need instruction; you are as sharp and smart as any girl could be. you'll be a little puzzled at first about the different classes, and i'll give you hints about how to take notes and all that sort of thing. but you will quickly get into the way of it, and then you'll learn like a house on fire.”

“i wish you two wouldn't whisper together so much,” said linda in an annoyed voice. “i am going over my french parsing to myself, and you do interrupt me so.”

“then walk a little farther away from us,” said molly rudely.

she turned once more to her cousin.

“i will introduce you to the very nicest girls in my form,” she said. “i do hope you'll be put into my form, for then in the evenings you and i can do our work together. i expect you know about as much as i do.”

“but that's just it—i don't,” said nora. “i have not learned a bit in the school way. i had a governess for a time, but she did not know a great deal. of course mother taught me too; but i have not had advantages. i should not be surprised if i were put into the lowest form.”

they now arrived at the school, and a few minutes later nora found herself in a huge classroom in which about sixty other girls were assembled. miss flowers presently sent a pupil-teacher to ask miss o'shanaghgan to have an interview with her in her private room.

miss flowers was about fifty years of age. she had white hair, calm, large, well-opened blue eyes, a steadfast mouth, and a gracious and at the same time dignified manner. she was not exactly beautiful; but she had the sort of face which most girls respected and which many loved. nora looked earnestly at her, and in her wild, impulsive irish fashion, gave her heart on the spot.

“what is your name, my dear?” said the head-mistress kindly.

nora told it.

“you are irish, mrs. hartrick tells me.”

“yes, miss flowers, i have lived all my life in ireland.”

“i must find out what sort of instruction you have had. have you ever been at school before?”

“never.”

“how old are you?”

“sixteen, miss flowers.”

“what things have you been taught?”

“english subjects of different sorts,” replied nora. “a little music—oh, i love music, i do love music!—and a little french; and i can speak irish,” she added, raising her beautiful, dark-blue eyes, and fixing them on the face of the head-mistress. that winsome face touched miss flowers' heart.

“i will do what i can for you,” she said. “for the present you had better study alone. at the end of a week or so i shall be able to determine what form to put you in. now, go back to the schoolroom and ask miss goring to come to me.”

miss goring was the english mistress. miss flowers saw her alone for a minute or two.

“do what you can for the irish girl,” she said. “she is a very pretty creature; she is evidently ignorant; but i think she has plenty of talent.”

miss goring went back, and during the rest of the morning devoted herself to nora. nora had varied and strange acquirements at her finger's ends. she was up in all sorts of folk lore; she could clothe her speech in picturesque and striking language. she could repeat poetry from sir walter scott, from shakspere, from the old irish bards themselves; but her grammar was defective, although her reading aloud was very pretty and sweet. her knowledge of history was vague, and might be best described by the expression, up and down. she knew all about the waldenses; she had a vivid picture in her mind's eye of st. bartholomew's eve. the french revolution appalled and, at the same time, attracted her. the death of charles i. drew tears from her eyes; but she knew nothing whatever of the chronological arrangements of history; and the youngest girl in the school could have put her to shame with regard to the magna charta. it was just the same with every branch of knowledge which nora had even a smattering of.

at last the great test of all came—could she play or could she not? she had spoken often of her passionate love for music. miss goring took her into the drawing room, away from the other girls.

“i am not supposed to be musical,” she said, “but i think i know music when i hear it. if you have talent, you shall have plenty of advantages here. now, sit down and play something for me.”

“what! at that piano?” said nora, her eyes sparkling. miss goring had opened a magnificent broadwood grand.

“yes,” she said. “it is rather daring of me to bring you here; but i want you to have fair play.”

“i never played on a really good piano in my life,” said nora. “may i venture?”

“yes. i do not believe you will injure it.”

“may i play as loud as i like, and as soft as i like?”

“certainly. you may play exactly as you please; only play with all your heart. you will be taught scientific music doubtless; but i want to know what you can do without education, at present.”

nora sat down. at first she felt a little shy, and all her surroundings were so strange, the piano was so big; she touched it with her small, taper fingers, and it seemed to her that the deep, soft notes were going to overpower her. then she looked at miss goring and felt uncomfortable; but she touched the notes again, and she began to forget the room, and miss goring, and the grand piano; and the soul of music stood in her eyes and touched the tips of her fingers. the music was quite unclassical, quite unconventional; but it was music—a wild kind of wailing chant—the notes of the banshee itself. nora played on, and the tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

“oh, it hurts so!” she said at last, and she looked full up at miss goring. behold, the cold, gray eyes of the english teacher were also full of tears.

“you terrify me,” she said. “where did you hear anything like that?”

“that is the wail of the banshee. shall i play any more?”

“nothing more so eerie.”

“then may i sing for you?”

“can you sing?”

“i was never taught; but i think i can sing.” nora struck a few chords again. she sang the pathetic words, “she is far from the land,” and miss goring felt the tears filling her eyes once more.

“upon my word!” she said, as she led her pupil back to the schoolroom, “you can play and you can sing; you have music in you. it would be worth while to give you good lessons.”

nora's musical education was now taken up with vigor. miss goring spoke to miss flowers about it, and miss flowers communicated with mrs. hartrick; and mrs. hartrick was extremely pleased to find that she had a musical genius in her midst, and determined to give that same musical genius every chance. accordingly, the very best master in the school arranged to give nora lessons, and a mistress of striking ability took her also in hand. nora's wild music, the music that came from her heart, and the song that bubbled from her lips, were absolutely silenced. she must not sing at will; she must on no account play at will. the dullest of exercises were given to her for the purpose of molding her fingers, and the dullest of voice exercises were also given to her for the purpose of molding her voice. she struggled against the discipline, and hated it. she was essentially a child of nature, and this first putting on of the chains of education was the reverse of pleasant.

“oh, molly,” she said, “what is the good of singing those hateful, screaming exercises, and those scales? they are too detestable, and those little twists and turns. my fingers absolutely feel quite nervous. what is the use? what is the use?”

molly also sighed and said, “what is the use?” but then the musical mistress and the great master looked at nora all over when she made similar remarks, and would not even vouchsafe to answer.

“father would never be soothed with that sort of music,” she said. “i think he would be very glad we had not a good piano. oh, molly, what does it all mean?”

“i don't know,” said molly. “it's like all other education, nothing but grind, grind; but i suppose something will come of it in the long run.”

“what are you talking about, girls?” said mrs. hartrick, who just then appeared upon the scene. “nora, i am pleased; to get very good reports of your music.”

“oh!” said nora, “i am glad you have come, aunt grace; and i shall be able to speak to you. must i learn what takes all the music out of me?”

“silly child. there is only one road to a sound musical education, and that is the road of toil. at present you play by ear, and sing by ear. you have talent; but it must be cultivated. just believe that your elders know what they are about.”

nora did not say anything. mrs. hartrick, after looking at her gravely for a moment, continued her gentle walk round the shrubbery. molly uttered a sigh.

“there's no good, nora,” she said. “you'll have to go through with it. i suppose it is the only way; but it's hard to believe it.”

“well, at any rate, i enjoy other things in my school life,” said nora. “miss goring is so nice, and i quite love miss flowers; and, after all, i am in your form, molly, and we do like doing our lessons together.”

“to be sure we do; life is quite a different thing for me since you have come here,” was molly's retort.

“and you have been very good indeed about your naughty words, you know,” said nora, nestling up to her cousin.

“have i? well, it's owing to you. you see, now, i have someone to help me—someone to understand me.”

“ah!” said nora; “but i won't be here very long.”

“not here very long! why, you must. what is the use of beginning school and then stopping it?”

“school or no school, my place is by father's side. it is a long, long time since we heard from uncle george. as soon as ever he comes back i go.”

“father has been a whole month in ireland now,” said molly. “i cannot imagine what he is doing. i think mother fidgets rather. she has very long letters from him, and——”

“and, do you know,” said nora, “that father has not written to me once—no, not once since uncle george went over? i am absolutely in the dark.”

“i wonder you stand it,” said molly. “you are so impetuous. i cannot imagine why you don't fly back.”

“i could not,” said nora.

“could not? what is there to hinder you?”

“i have given my word.”

“your word? to whom?”

“to your father. he went to ireland to please me.”

“oh, did he? that's exciting,” said molly. “father went to ireland to please a little chit like you. now, what does this mean?”

“it means exactly what i have said. he went because i begged him to; because i explained things to him, and he said he would go. but he made a condition, and i am bound to stick to my part of it.”

“and that was——how your eyes shine, nora!”

“that was, that i am to stay patiently here, and get as english as ever i can. oh! i must stick to my part of the bargain.”

“well, i cannot say you look very happy,” said molly, “although you are such a favorite at the school. if i was not very fond of you myself i should be jealous. if i had a friend whom i really worshiped, before you appeared on the scene, it was stephanotie miller, the american girl.”

“oh, isn't she charming?” said nora. “she makes me laugh. i am sure she has irish blood in her.”

“not a bit of it; she's a yankee of the yankees.”

“well, she has been sent to school to get tame, just as i have been,” said nora; “but i don't want you to lose her friendship. after all, i care very little for anyone in the school but you, molly; only stephanotie makes me laugh.”

“we'll have her to tea tomorrow. i'll run in now and ask mother. i shan't mind a bit if you are not going quite to take her from me. after all, she can be friends with both of us. i'll run into the house this moment, and ask mother if we may have stephanotie to tea.”

molly rushed into the house. her mother was seated in the morning room, busily writing.

“well, my dear, well?” she said. “i hear you—you need not bang the door. what is it, molly?”

“oh, mother! do look up and listen.”

mrs. hartrick raised her head slowly.

“yes, dear?” she said.

“i have behaved a great deal better lately—have i not, mother?”

“you certainly have, molly; and i am pleased with you. if you would restrain some of your impetuosity, i should be glad to tell you how pleased i am.”

“it is all owing to nora.”

“to nora, my dear! nora is as wild as you are.”

“all the same, it is owing to nora; and she is not as wild as i am. i mean that i have been downright vulgar; but if you think there is one trace of that in little nora, it is because you do not know her a bit.”

“what is your special request, molly? i am very busy just now, and cannot discuss your cousin's character. you have improved, and i am pleased with you.”

“then, if you are pleased with me, mother, will you do me a favor?”

“what is that?”

“stephanotie miller has never been at our house.”

“stephanotie miller. what an outlandish name! who is she?”

“she is a dear, jolly, sweet, handsome american girl. she came to school last term, and she is in the same form with nora and me; and we both adore her, yes we do. whatever she does, and whatever she says, we think simply perfection; and we want to ask her here. she is staying with a rather tiresome aunt, in a little house in the village, and she has come over to be englishized. may she have tea with us tomorrow?”

“i will inquire about her from miss flowers; and if she seems to be a nice girl i shall have no objection.”

“but we want her to come tomorrow,” said molly. “it is saturday, you know, and a whole holiday. we thought she might come to lunch, or, if you objected to that, immediately after lunch.”

“and what about linda? does linda like her?”

“holy moses, no!” said molly.

“molly!”

“oh, mother! do forgive me, and don't say she mustn't come because i said 'holy moses.' it's all linda; she excites the vulgar in me always. but may stephie come, mother? you are always having linda's friends here.”

“i will not be reproved by you, molly.”

“but, please, dear mother, let her come. nora and i want her so badly.”

“well, dear, i will try and see miss flowers tomorrow morning.”

“won't you judge of her for yourself, mother? there never was a better judge than you are.”

this judicious flattery had its effect on mrs. hartrick, she sat quite still for a moment, pondering. after all, to be a pupil at mrs. flowers' school was in itself a certificate of respectability, and molly had been very good lately—that is, for her; and if she and nora wanted a special friend to spend the afternoon with them, it would be possible for mrs. hartrick quickly to decide whether the invitation was to be repeated.

“very well,” she said, looking at her daughter, “for this once you may have her; and as you have wisely expressed it, molly, i can judge for myself.”

“oh, thank you, thank you, mother!”

molly rushed out of the room. she was flying headlong down the passage, when she came plump up against linda.

“now, what is up?” said that young person. “really, molly!”

“oh, hurrah! i have won my way for once,” said molly. “stephanotie is coming tomorrow to spend the whole afternoon.”

“stephanotie—that horrid yankee?” said linda.

“horrid yankee yourself!” was molly's vulgar retort.

“but she cannot come. i have asked mabel and rose armitage, and you know they cannot stand stephanotie.”

“well, you, and your mabel and rose, can keep away from stephanotie—that's all,” said molly. “anyhow, she is coming. don't keep me. i must tell nora.”

linda made way for her sister to fly past her, as she afterward expressed it, like a whirlwind. she stood still for a moment in deep consideration. stephanotie was a daring, bright, go-ahead young person, and had she ever taken, in the very least, to linda, linda would have worshiped her. stephanotie was extremely rich, and the bouquets she brought to school, and the bon-bons she kept in her pocket, and the pretty trinkets she wore, and the dresses she exhibited had fascinated linda more than once. for, rich as the hartricks were, mrs. hartrick had far too good taste to allow her daughters more pocket-money, or more trinkets, or more bon-bons than their companions. linda, in her heart of hearts, had greatly rebelled against her mother's rule in this particular, and had envied stephanotie what she called her free life. but stephanotie had never taken to linda, and she had taken to molly, and still more had she taken to nora; and, in consequence, linda pretended to hate her, and whenever she had an opportunity used to run her down.

linda and her friends, rose and mabel armitage, with several other girls, formed quite a clique in the school against stephanotie and what she termed her “set”; and now to think that this very objectionable american girl was to spend the next day at the laurels because molly, forsooth! wished it, was quite intolerable.

linda thought for a moment, then went into the room where her mother was busy writing. mrs. hartrick had just finished her letter. she looked up when linda approached.

“well, darling?” she said. mrs. hartrick was very fond of linda, and petted her a great deal more than molly.

“oh, mother! i am vexed,” said linda. “is it quite settled?”

“is what settled, my dear?”

“is it quite settled that stephanotie is to come to-morrow?”

“by the way, i was going to ask you about her, linda. what sort of girl is she?”

“i do not wish to say anything against my schoolfellows, mother; but if you could only see her—”

mrs. hartrick raised her eyebrows in alarm.

“molly has taken so violently to her,” she answered, “and so has nora; and i thought that just for once—”

“so you have given leave, mother?”

“yes; i have.”

“and my friends are coming—those two charming girls, the armitages.”

“yes, dear; i greatly admire both the armitage girls. i am glad they are coming; but why should not miss miller come also?”

“only, she is not in their 'set,' mother—that is all. i wish—i do wish you would ask her to postpone her visit. if she must come, let her come another saturday.”

“i will think about it,” said mrs. hartrick. “i have certainly promised and——but i will think about it.”

linda saw that she could not press her mother any further. she went away in great disquietude.

“what is to be done?” she thought. “if only mother would speak to molly at once; but molly is so impetuous; and once stephanotie is asked, there will be no getting out of it. she is just the sort of girl to tell that unpleasant story about me, too. if mother knew that, why, i should at last be in her black books. well, whatever happens, stephanotie must not be asked to spend the afternoon here to-morrow. i must somehow contrive to put some obstacle in the way.”