“Yes, it is, Sarah,” Katie said, sturdily. “Now, Sarah, you don't think you can deceive me. Never mind, dear, though he does make me mad with him, he's a very good fellow, and you have my full consent and approval.” “Thank you, dear—wait till you're asked.” “It won't be so very long, Sarah.” “Yes, it will, Katie. Frank and I are the best friends in the world, but if he were stopping here for the next ten years we should never be anything more.” “Now, Sarah, you name your couple. It must be one of the bridesmaids you know, or at any rate, some one down here.” “It is one of the bridesmaids,” Sarah said quietly. “Well, which?” Katie said, impatiently. “Katie O'Byrne.” A flush of colour came into Katie's face, and she said, indignantly,— “Sarah, you're making fun of me!” “No, I am not, my dear. That's the couple I name for six pair of kid gloves against the other.” “Ah, well,” Katie said, “then if what you say about yourself is true, our bet will never be decided. He dislikes me, I'm sure of it, and certainly I dislike him. Why, he's always making fun of me. He never even says a civil word to me, and I'm sure I don't want him to.” “My dear Katie, I don't say the affair is coming off at once. I don't even say that I believe, or rather that I have any reason to believe, that Frank is in love with you. I only say, as you challenged me to fix on one of the bridesmaids, I fix upon you. He makes no distinction between the others; he flirts with them miscellaneously. You are the only exception. He certainly does take pleasure in teazing you, and in making you indignant, but that shows at least that he thinks you worth the trouble of teazing. He almost always manages to get next to you out walking and at meals, quite accidentally, Katie, or else wonderfully well managed.” “Nonsense, Sarah; I never remarked it.” “Very well, Katie; but it is so for all that.” Her cousin thought a little, and then said,— “Well, if he does, Sarah, it is only because he sees I would rather he didn't, and wants to bother me. No, no; you may not have to pay your gloves, but you will never win mine. I never heard a more ridiculous idea in my life.” “Well, Katie, we shall see,” Sarah said. “Now I must be off to bed.” The next day they were out in the garden, looking for violets, for it was now the end of March. Frank and Miss O'Bryne were a little apart from the others, and he had just made an attack upon Ireland. The girl turned round upon him, suddenly,— “Why do you always treat me like a spoilt child, Mr. Maynard? Why are you always teazing me and making me mad?” “Not always, I hope, Miss O'Byrne?” Frank said, seriously. “Yes, you are,” Katie said, indignantly; “you are laughing at me now. Why do you do it?” “Do you really wish me to tell you, Miss O'Byrne?” “Oh, I suppose you are going to invent some ridiculous compliment, but I won't believe it, Mr. Maynard.” “Are you quite sure, Miss O'Byrne?” “Sure and sure,” Katie said, resolutely.