"Ah, do now, just to please me,
Kitty Malone; they came all the way from Old Ireland this morning. Stay,
I'll pin them into the front of your dress. Hold easy a moment dear
woman, and you'll have as neat a little bunch as ever you clapped your
two eyes on."
Miss Sherrard could not help once again letting that ghost of a smile
play round her lips, and then vanish.
"But really," she said--"oh, thank you for the roses; yes, they are very
sweet; yes, delicious! She bent her head and sniffed quite audibly.
"Ah, then, aren't they refreshing, and aren't they melting the anger
down in your heart? Say they are now--say they are. You see you never
had an out-and-out wild Irish girl to manage before. Well, and what is
it you want with me? I'll be as civil as you please, and as willing to
listen to the words of wisdom, if only you'll let me first tell my own
story."
"It is only fair that you should be allowed to tell your own tale,"
said Miss Sherrard; "but please understand that I am very angry. Miss
Worrick's story has amazed me. Do you know. Kitty Malone, of what you
are accused?"
"Well, I do, and I don't; but I should like to hear the crime spoken of
by your pretty lips. What is it? Something black of course; black things
are always laid to the door of Kitty Malone.
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