“You could wear bright-coloured ties,” suggested Eileen, “and have one of every colour you wanted.” “Why so I could,” brightening up, “and provided I don’t always lose the colour I want at the moment of requiring it, it will save a lot of bother.” “But you always will, you know,” said a gay masculine voice; “you’ll keep every one waiting five minutes longer than usual hunting for the required colour, and then turn up in a red tie with a green hat,” and before either of them could speak, Jack O’Hara, from the Parsonage, was coming through the window, head first, trailing his long legs after him. “I’ve just had a little practice at this sort of thing,” he ran on. “I came from Newry, with the Burtons, a whole carriage full of them, and we had a great time. The train was just going to start when I arrived, and the station master had locked their compartment, and when I asked him to let me in, he tried to put me into a smoker next door. I said, ‘No, thanks, not for Jack this journey.’ He murmured something about the Burton’s carriage being full up, and I couldn’t go in it, so I said, ‘You see if I can’t,’ and took a header through the window, right on to their laps.” “But you don’t know them!” exclaimed Paddy, whose face at the same time expressed the greatest relish at the episode. “I’ve been introduced,” was the calm reply. “Fletcher introduced me in Hill Street a week ago.” “Whatever did they think of you?” asked Eileen, unable to resist smiling. “Oh, we had a ripping time. They’re awfully jolly girls, and they had that little imp Basil with them. He amused himself trying to throw everything he could get at out of the window as we went along. But touching this blouse,” with a sudden change of voice, “why don’t you ask my advice? You haven’t either of you a grain of taste compared to mine.” “Yours!” exclaimed Paddy scornfully, “and there you sit with emerald green in your stockings, a yellow waistcoat, and a terra cotta tie.” “What’s the matter with my stockings?” surveying his fine pair of legs with an air of pride. “That’s the O’Hara tartan; I’m very proud of it. You’re not supposed to look at me all at once. You should enjoy the stockings first, and then gradually work up to the waistcoat, and afterward to the tie.” “Get thoroughly seasoned and strengthened before reaching the face, I suppose you mean!” said Paddy, for which a well-aimed cushion brought her rippling red-brown hair half-way down her back.