"I'm the youngest of six, and me father won't have me thwarted!" sighed Pixie, lapsing into her brogue, as she usually did when agitated. "Nobody's ever angry with me at Bally William; I get into mischief the day long, and it's all quite happy and comfortable. If I'm quiet and well-behaved, Bridgie is after giving me a mixture, for, says she, `The choild's ill; there's not been a sound out of her this day!' I wish I was back in me own country, Mademoiselle, and then I shouldn't trouble you any more!" "I vish I was back in my countree, too," sighed the other softly, and two big tears started in the brown eyes, and trickled slowly down the cheeks. "My father is ill, and needs me, and I cannot be with him. I feel as if I could have wings and fly, I long so much to go; but I must stay here and work. My 'eart is very sad, and sometimes I get cross-- too cross, perhaps, because I cannot bear any more. Then you girls talk among yourselves and say, `How she is bad-tempered, that Mademoiselle! How she is cross and strict!' That is what you say very often, _n'est- ce pas_?" "We do!" replied Pixie frankly. It was one of the Irishisms which amused her companions that she never by any chance gave a simple "Yes" or "No" in reply to a question. It was always "I am!" "I will!" "I do!" as the case might be. "We do!" she replied now, and then hastened to soften the admission by a coaxing, "But I wouldn't be troubling meself about that, if I were you, for they don't mind it a bit. I drew a picture of you the other day with a bubble coming out of your mouth, and `Bow-wow-wow' written on it like a dog, because you are always barking; but there isn't a bite in ye, and all the girls say you aren't half as bad as the Mademoiselle who was here before!" Well! There are some conditions of mind when we are thankful for the smallest grain of comfort, and Mademoiselle smiled and flicked the tears from her eyes. "They are too kind! I am much obliged; but another time, when I `bark' as you call it, you will perhaps remember that your teachers are like yourselves, and 'ave the same feelings. When you come first to school you have to be comforted because you are 'ome-sick, but we are 'ome-sick too; and when you get bad news you cry, and are excused your work, but we must go on the same as before; and if it is difficult to learn your lessons, it is also difficult to teach! Well, now you may go! You will remember not to be rude to Mademoiselle again, eh?" She held out her hand, smiling more brightly this time, and Pixie seized it eagerly. "I will! And I hope your father will get well soon. You will see him at Christmas, and that isn't very long now; only forty-eight days to- morrow. I mark them off on my calendar."