"But that's exactly it, father--that's what I am coming to. If you won't let me have anything to do with Elma, why--why, you must punish me terribly. I want you to let me--to let me make Elma my real friend." "That sort of girl your friend? Not if I know it," said the squire. "But, please, father, do let me plead for her. I have done her injury, and she--she has never had advantages like the rest of us." Then Kitty began to coax, and few, very few people could coax like this Irish girl. Not only with her voice, but with her eyes, with a smile here and a frown there, she set herself to bring old Squire Malone to her way of thinking. And as always from the time she was a tiny child she had been able to twist this old lion round her little finger, so she twisted him now. "You have got to do it, father," she said at last. "You have got to forgive Laurie, and you have got to forgive Elma, and----" "Bless the boy, it was just like his recklessness, Why didn't he come and tell me? He wasn't afraid of his old father, was he?" "Well, father, you know you are very fierce when you like." "Tut! tut! Kitty, don't you begin to scold." "No; I won't--not if you yield to me. Full and free forgiveness for the whole three of us; for your Kit----" "Bless you, child, I have forgiven you already." "Ay, didn't I know it--didn't I say he was a dear old thing? Now, Laurie--you won't say a word to him?" "I'll give him a right good scolding." "Why, then, dad, your scolding never did anybody any harm; your bark is worse than your bite, you know; but there will be no school in England for him, that's what I mean." "Well, it doesn't seem to have succeeded with you, asthore." "No more it did. Why, it was breaking the heart in me entirely." "So you want to come back with me again?" "That I do, and never, never be a polished lady with manners to the longest day of my life." "You want to be Wild Kitty still?" "Wild, wild, the wildest of Kittys to the end of the chapter." "And what will your aunts say?" "Never mind; what you say is the important thing." "It shall be as you please, Kit. I am sure I have missed you sore, very sore." "And now, what about Elma?" "Yes; what do you want me to do for her?" "I want her to come back with me to Castle Malone for the rest of the summer." "Oh, heart alive! child; but I don't think I could take to that sort of girl." "Yes, you will, if I take to her. Now, dad, must I begin it all over again?" "No, no; anything to please you, Kit." "And at the end of the summer, as you have plenty of money, and as I am sure she has repented most bitterly will you send her to Girton?" "Oh, come, come; I make no promises." "But I know it is all right, and I am going to rush up to her and tell her everything. Oh, and here come Miss Sherrard and Miss Worrick. You shall see them without me." "I declare, upon my word, Kitty, you are the most extraordinary creature. How am I to face the good ladies?"