Mr. Denvers was a lawyer, and made a fairly good income; but his large family and the education of his boys had strained his resources to such an extent that he was very glad to accept the liberal sum which Kitty's father was paying for her. Alice knew all about this, and at first was more than willing to help her family in every way in her power. She did not murmur at all when she was asked to give up half of her room to the Irish girl. She was quite willing to take her under her patronage, to show her round, to try to get friends for her among her own schoolfellows--in short, to make her happy. But then Alice had never pictured any one in the least like Kitty Malone. She had imagined a somewhat plain, shy, awkward girl, who would lean upon her, who would give her unbounded affection, and follow her lead in everything. Now, this sparkling, racy, daring Kitty was by no means to her mind. There was not the least doubt that Kitty would not be guided by anybody, that she would never play second fiddle, and there was also a dreadful fear down deep in poor Alice's heart that she would fascinate her school fellows instead of disgusting them, and that Alice's own dearest friends would leave her in favor of the stranger. She walked very slowly, therefore, a frown between her brows, discontent and jealousy in her heart. Bessie was waiting for her at the gate. "Why, Alice," called out Bessie, "how late you are. We shan't get to Harley Grove by five o'clock." "I can't help being late; it is a blessing you see me now," answered Alice. "I wonder you waited for me, Bessie." "Well, my dear," answered Bessie, "I would much rather walk with you than take a solitary ramble by myself. I thought," she added, "you were going to bring that new Irish girl with you. Has she come?" "Has she not come?" answered Alice. "Oh, Bessie, Bessie, it is because of her I am late. Oh, Bessie, she is quite too dreadful." "How so?" asked Bessie. "She is the most extraordinary, wild, reckless, absolutely unladylike, vulgar person I ever came across in the whole course of my life." "What a lot of adjectives!" laughed Bessie. "I shall be quite curious to see her; from your description she must be a monster." "She is a monster, a human monster," answered Alice; "and the worst of it is, Bessie, that in some extraordinary way she has fascinated both father and mother, and even Fred--Fred, who hates girls as a rule; they are all so taken up with this blessed Kitty Malone that they don't mind her perfectly savage manners. I can tell you I am quite miserable about it." "Poor Alice," answered Bessie in a sympathetic tone. "I suppose then, dear, she is not coming with us?" "Oh, yes, she is; she is following us. She could not find anything quiet enough to put on." "Quiet enough to put on! What do you mean?"