My principal
object in starting this society is to put those horrid paying girls in
their proper places. There must not be friendship--not real friendship,
I mean--between us and them."
"You are a paying girl yourself," suddenly exclaimed Mary Rand.
"I know. I wish I were not, but I can't help myself. You must allow me
to stand alone; I am your queen."
"That you are, and I love you," said Mary.
"This rule must hold good," repeated Kathleen. "I must insist on my
society adhering to it.--Ruth Craven, why are you silent?"
"Because I earnestly wish I had not joined. I cannot give up Cassandra,
nor Alice, nor--nor other girls."
"Nonsense, Ruth! You dare not fail me now," said Kathleen, with
enthusiasm. "I will make it up to you. You shall come with me to Ireland
in the summer. You shall. Oh Ruth, don't fail me!"
"I won't; but I hate that rule."
"And, girls, I think we must part now," said Kate Rourke. "It is getting
late, and it would never do for our secret meetings to be discovered."
"Whatever happens, we must stick together," said Kathleen. "Well,
good-night; we meet again this day week."
There was quite a flutter of excitement along that lonely road as the
Wild Irish Girls returned to their different homes. Susy Hopkins felt
quite the happiest and most light-hearted of any. By-and-by she and Ruth
Craven found themselves the only girls who were walking down the road
called Southwood Lane.
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