Let me tuck my hand
inside your arm, sweetest."
A titter was heard from the surrounding girls. Ruth turned very red,
then she looked into Kathleen's eyes.
"You mean kindly," she said, "but perhaps you had better not. You, too,
are a stranger."
"Are you a stranger?" asked Kathleen. "Then that clinches the matter.
Ah, yes; it's lonely I am. I have come from my dear mountain home to be
civilised; but civilisation will never suit Kathleen O'Hara. She isn't
meant to have it. She's meant to dance on the tops of the mountains, and
to gather flowers in the bogs. She's made to dance and joke and laugh,
and to have a gay time. Ah! my people at home made a fine mistake when
they sent me to be civilised. But I like you, honey. I like the shape of
your face, and the way you are made, and the wonderful look in your eyes
when you glance round at me. It is you and me will be the finest of
friends, sha'n't we?"
Before Ruth could reply the girls had entered the great hall, which
presently became quite full.
"Don't let go of me, darling, for the life of you. It's lost I'd be in a
place of this sort. Let me clutch on to you until they put me into the
lowest place in the school."
"But why so?" asked Ruth, glancing at her tall companion in some
astonishment. "Don't you know anything?"
"I? Never a bit, darling. I don't suppose they'll keep me here. I have
no learning, and I never want to have any, and what's more--"
"Hush, girls! No talking," called the indignant voice of a form-room
mistress.
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