"We will come to-morrow," said Norah,—she felt very sorry for the little girl when she spoke so sadly of being alone all day—"but I must go now. I can hear Dan calling, and it is getting late."
"Good-bye," said the little girl. "Won't you tell me your name, please?"
"Norah—Norah Carew."
"And mine is Una. Good-bye, Norah. Please do come to-morrow."
"Yes, I promise we will come, unless it rains; and then, of course, you wouldn't be out either," said Norah. "Good-bye."
"Norah!" said Dan severely, as his sister pushed her way up through the bushes to the top of the bank, "you have been a very long time down in the glen, and I have called you lots and lots of times and you wouldn't answer. I think you must have heard!"
"Dan, dear, really I didn't hear," said Norah. "I was talking to the little foreign girl. Didn't you hear us? She was sitting in our glen, and her name is Una, and she is a very nice little girl; and she wants us to come and see her to-morrow, and I said we would if it was fine. Aren't you pleased, Dan?"
"Yes," said Dan, "very! I heard you talking to someone, and that is why I wanted to come down too. That's what made me cross, Norah; but I think the crossness has all gone away now, and I do want to hear about the little foreign girl, please," and Dan leant back comfortably in his chair as his sister began to wheel him over the mossy ground.
"Poor Dan!" said Norah; "it was horrid of me not to have heard you calling."
"I thought perhaps you were talking to a fairy," said Dan.