"I would, in a minute, if you kept me awake." "It is a shame she's not in our room," interposed Edith. "We've asked Miss Maitland to let her change with Geraldine Saunders, and I think perhaps she may. We want Flossie all to ourselves; I do hope she'll let us!" "So do I!" retorted Dorothy feelingly. "The Hammond-Smiths are welcome to their cousin, so far as I'm concerned," she whispered to Chatty Burns; "I don't like her. She's trying to show off. Edith and Claudia are making far too much fuss over her." "They always gush," commented Chatty. "Still, I dare say Flossie will need taking down a little." "It would do her all the good in the world," replied Dorothy. Then, turning to the Hammond-Smiths, she remarked aloud: "There's a new girl here who may be just as good as your cousin, for anything we know. Honor Fitzgerald, do you play tennis?" "I can play, but how you'll like it is another story," answered Honor. "We two," nodding at Flossie, "had better try a set by ourselves, and then you can choose the winner." "I'm sure I don't care about it, thank you." Flossie's tone was supercilious. "All right! We don't force ourselves where we're not wanted in my part of the world." "Is that Ireland? Then I suppose your name is Biddy?" "Certainly not!" "I thought all Irish girls were called Biddy; are you sure you're not?" "My name is Honor Fitzgerald." "Really! I'm astonished it isn't Mulligan, or O'Grady." The Hammond-Smiths giggled, and poked Effie and Blanche Lawson. "Isn't Flossie funny?" they whispered delightedly. "I think she's very rude," observed Dorothy Arkwright. "I call that an extremely cheap form of wit." "Irish names are often rather peculiar," drawled Claudia Hammond-Smith. "They're quite as good as English ones, and sometimes a great deal more ancient and aristocratic," returned Honor. "One for Claudia, and for Flossie Taylor too!" said Dorothy to Chatty Burns. "Paddy, for instance," interposed Flossie, who saw that the Lawsons were listening, as well as her cousins. "St. Patrick and pigs always go together, in my mind. I suppose you keep a pig in Ireland?" "Don't answer her!" whispered Honor's neighbour. "They're only teasing you because you're new. They want to see how much you'll stand." But poor Honor was unaccustomed as yet to schoolgirl banter, and could not abstain from replying: "Does it matter whether we do or not?" She spoke quietly, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if her temper were rising. "Not in the least! I only thought all Irish people cultivated pigs." "It's no worse than keeping a cat, or a dog." "My dear Paddy, of course not! Still, I shouldn't care to have the creatures in the drawing-room. Take a little more bread and butter. I'm sorry we've no potatoes to offer you." The Hammond-Smiths and the Lawsons tittered, and Dorothy Arkwright was about to state her frank opinion of their behaviour when Honor's pent-up wrath exploded.