The hall was wide and cold, and, oh, so clean--"fearful clean," thought the new pupil with a sigh, as she stepped gingerly over the polished oilcloth and gazed awesomely at spotless wood and burnished brass. The drawing-room had none of the splendour of that disused apartment at Knock Castle, but it was bright and home-like, with an abundance of pretty cushions and tablecloths, a scent of spring flowers in the air, and a fire dancing cheerily in the grate. Pixie's prejudices received a shock at the sight of so much frivolity in a drawing-room, and she could not echo her father's admiration. She seated herself on the edge of the sofa and began to paint imaginary pictures of the mistress of this fine house. "She will be tall, with yellow hair. She will have cold fingers and a nose that looks thin and has a hump in the middle. No, I don't believe she will, after all. I believe she'll be fussy, and then they are small and dark--dark, with eyeglasses, and those funny red cheeks that are made up of little lines, and never get lighter or darker. And she'll have a chain hanging from her waist with a lot of things that jingle, like the lady in the train. Oh, me dear, suppose she was old! I never thought of that. Suppose she was old, in a cap and a black satin dress, and chilblains on her hands!" And when the door opened--it was really a most exciting occasion!--and Miss Phipps came into the room. She was not in the least like any of the three pictures which Pixie had imagined, she was far, far nicer and prettier. She was tall, and so graceful and elegantly dressed as to be quite dazzling to the eyes of the country-bred stranger. She had waving brown hair, which formed a sort of halo round her face, a pale complexion, and grey eyes which looked at you with a straight long glance, and then lightened as if they liked what they saw. She was quite young, too, not a bit old and proper; the only thing that looked old were the little lines about the eyes, and even those disappeared when her face was in repose. She came forward to where the major was standing, and held out her hand with a smile of welcome. "Major O'Shaughnessy! I am very pleased to see you. I hope you have had a good journey and a comfortable crossing." Then she turned and looked at the crumpled little figure on the sofa, and her eyes softened tenderly. "Is this my new pupil? How do you do, dear? I hope we shall be very good friends!" "Oi trust we may!" returned Pixie fervently, and with a broadening of the already broad brogue which arose from the emotion of the moment and made her father frown with embarrassment. "Ha--hum--ha--I am afraid I have brought you rather a rough specimen," he said apologetically. "Pixie is the baby of the family, and has been allowed to run wild, and play with all the children about the place. I hope you will not find her very backward in her lessons. She has had a governess at home, but--"