"Whatever is this, and why is it put here?" said Alice, springing
forward to look at the address:
"Miss Kathleen O'Hara, care of Mrs. Tennant, Myrtle Lodge."
"Golloptious!" cried Kathleen. "It's my own. It's my clothes--my sort
of a kind of a treasure. Oh, what delicious fun! Now you will see how
smart I can be. Maybe there will be something here to fit you, Alice.
Wouldn't you like it? We are going to tea to-night to Mrs. Weldon's, and
Ruth Craven is to be there. The darling girl--I will give her something.
I should love to make her look just as beautiful as she can look. I am
not a bit a stingy sort of girl; you know that, Alice. I want to be
quite generous with my lovely things."
"Well, do stop talking," said Alice. "I never came across such an
inveterate chatterbox. I suppose you'd like to have the box taken up to
our room; but I don't think you'll have any time to open it at present.
You have promised to come back with me to the school this afternoon, in
order that Miss Spicer may give you a special lesson in music."
"Arrah, then, my dear!" cried Kathleen, "it isn't me you'll see at
school again to-day. It's gloating and fussing over my clothes I will
be--portioning out those I mean to give to others, and trying on the
ones that will suit me. You can go to your horrid, stupid lessons if you
like, but it won't be Kathleen O'Hara who will accompany you. Perhaps
the poor tired one would like to have a pleasant afternoon in my
bedroom.
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