He conducted the children down some wide passages covered with thick Turkey carpets, opened the folding doors of a great drawing-room, and left them to themselves.  There was a minute or two of agonized terror on the part of Ruth, of suspense and rapid heart-beating as far as Kathleen was concerned, and then a deep, mellow, ringing voice was heard, and Miss Katie O’Flynn entered the apartment.

“Why, I never!” she cried.  “The top of the morning to you, my honey!  God bless you, my darling!  Oh, it is joy to kiss your sweet face again!”

A little lady, all smiles and dimples, all curls and necklaces and gay clothing, extended two arms wide and clasped them round Kathleen’s neck.

“Ah, aunty!” said Kathleen, “this is good.  And I ran away to see you.  I did, darling; I did.  I have got into the most awful scrape; nobody knows what will happen.  See me—­without gloves and without a necktie.  And this dear little girl, one of my chosen friends, Ruth Craven, has come with me.”

“Ah, now, how sweet of her!” said Miss O’Flynn, turning to Ruth.—­“Kiss me, my darling.  Why, then, you are as welcome as though you were the core of my heart for being so kind to my sweet Kathleen.—­Come to the light, Kathleen asthore, and let me look at you.  But it isn’t as rosy you are as you used to be.  It’s a bit pale and pulled down you look.  Do you like England, my dear?  If you don’t like it all at all, it’s home you will come with me to the old castle and the old country.  Now then, children, sit by me and let’s have a talk.  We’ll have a good meal presently, and then I have a bit of a thought in the back of my head which I think will please you both.  Sit here anyway for the present, and let us collogue to our hearts’ content.”

Miss Katie O’Flynn and her two young charges, as she told the girls she considered them, drew a good deal of attention as they sat and talked together.  The little lady was not young, but was certainly very fascinating.  She had a vivacious, merry smile, the keenest, most brilliant black eyes in the world, and a certain grace and dignity about her which seemed to contrast with her rapid utterances and intensely genial manner.

Dinner was announced, and the three went into the great dining-room.  Miss O’Flynn ordered a small table, and they sat down together.  Ruth felt unhappy; she keenly desired to go home again.  She was more and more certain that she had done wrong to listen to Kathleen’s persuasions.  But Kathleen was enjoying herself to the utmost.  She was an Irish girl again, sitting close to one of her very own.  She forgot the dull school and the dreadfully dreary house where she now lived; she absolutely forgot that such a person as Miss Ravenscroft existed; she ceased almost to remember the Society of the Wild Irish Girls.  Was she not Kathleen O’Hara, the only daughter of the House of O’Hara, the heiress of her beloved father’s old castle?  For some day she would be mistress of Carrigrohane