“Fancy if every one else did!” she ran on, “and our feelings got the better of us! How should you like it, aunties, if every one wanted to keep hugging you every time they saw you, and couldn’t help themselves! You would never dare to wear your best bonnets at all, should you?—and I expect your caps would be everywhere but on your heads, or else would have a perpetually rakish tilt.” The two little ladies smiled without the least resentment, for they had long known that the varying angle of their caps was a source of great amusement to their large army of nephews and nieces, who stoutly maintained that when Aunt Jane’s cap slipped awry, Aunt Mary’s quickly did the same of its own accord, and _vice versa_, and therefore, it was more often the cap’s fault than the owner’s. Jack, however, stood up promptly, and pulling himself to his full height, said, with a whimsical recollection of childhood, “Shall I be a man, aunties, and spank her?” This highly amused both little ladies, as it reminded them of a little mischievous girl who had pushed over her sister on purpose, and a sturdy, blue-eyed boy, who had promptly asked with a fiery resoluteness of purpose, “Shall I be a man, aunties, and spank her?” It was memorable also how disappointed he had been when told that “being a man” never meant spanking little girls at all, even when they were mischievous. He would, doubtless, not have waited for any verdict on the present occasion, only just then the hearty old General entered the room, and Paddy, the father’s darling, flew to him for protection. A general chattering and laughing ensued, and, presently seeing her opportunity, Eileen rose from her seat in the window, and with a curious subdued glow in her wonderful eyes glided silently from the room. A few minutes later she was pulsing up the mountain with a free, eager step that not only proclaimed her an experienced climber, but bespoke a deep delight in thus climbing to the upland solitudes alone. “I say, daddy,” Paddy was saying, “isn’t it ripping, we’re going to have a man-about-town here! The real, genuine thing, you know, eyeglass and all, and as _blasé_ as they’re made. Won’t Jack look like a countrified Irish lout with bats in his belfry!” The General said afterward, it was nearly as good as a bit of Tipperary’s extra-special, best Orangemen night. CHAPTER III Eileen the Dreamer. There was one spot on the mountains near The Ghan House where, if you climbed high enough and were not afraid of an almost perpendicular path, you could get a glorious view, not only of the Loch and mountains, but of a wide stretch of sparkling silver, or dreaming turquoise, which was the sea.