"Beth, answer Lady Benyon directly," Mrs. Caldwell angrily commanded. "Uncle James requested mamma to request me not to speak when you were present," Beth explained suavely. The old lady burst out laughing. "Well, that's droll," she said--"requested mamma to request me--why, it's James Patten all over. And who may you be, you monkey?" "I am Elizabeth Caldwell, but I only answer to Beth. Papa called me Beth." "Good!" said the little old lady. "And what's Ireland like?" "Great dark mountains," Beth rattled off, with big eyes dilated and fixed on space, as if she saw what she described. "Long, long, long, black bogs; all the poor people starving; and the sea rough--just like hell, you know, but without the fire." "Oh, now, this _is_ delightful!" the old lady chuckled. "I'm to enjoy myself to-day, it seems. You didn't prepare me for this treat, James Patten!" Uncle James simpered, as though taking to himself the credit of the whole entertainment. "So you hate Ireland?" said Lady Benyon. "No, I love it," said Beth. "It's me native country; and they don't give you little bits of cake there the size of sixpence. What they have you're welcome to. Long live Ireland!" "Good!" Lady Benyon ejaculated; then turned to Mildred. "And are you another naughty little patriot?" she asked. "No, _I'm_ not naughty," Mildred answered piously. "Beth's naughty," said Bernadine. "I'm sure I don't know _what_ Beth is not," the old lady declared, turning to Beth again. "Riley said I was one of the little girls the devil put out when he gave up housekeeping," Beth remarked casually. "Beth!" Mrs. Caldwell remonstrated. "He did, mamma. He said it the day that perjured villain Pat Murphy killed my magpie. And Riley's a good man. You said so yourself." "You can hear that the young lady has been in Ireland, I suppose, mamma," Uncle James observed. "I hear she can imitate the Irish," Lady Benyon rejoined bluntly; "and not the Irish only," she added with a chuckle. Beth was still sitting on the music-stool opposite the window, and presently she saw some one cross the lawn. "Oh, do look at the lovely lady," she cried enthusiastically. "She's just like the Princess Blue-eyes-and-golden-hair." Lady Benyon glanced over her shoulder. "Why, it's my maid," she said. Beth's countenance dropped, then cleared again. Even a maid might be a princess in disguise. Lady Benyon was going to stay all night, and at her special request Mildred and Beth were allowed to sit up to late dinner and prayers. She expected Beth to amuse her, but Beth was busy the whole time weaving a romance about the lovely lady's-maid, and scarcely spoke a word. When the servants came in to prayers, she sat and gazed at her heroine, and forgot to stand or kneel. She noticed, however, that Uncle James read the evening prayers with peculiar fervour.