"Nothing. I can't go for a sail, though; it's a bother, but it can't be helped."
"And why can't it be helped, if we two wish it, I want to know?"
"There are visitors coming to the Castle; we'll have to entertain them, daddy."
"Visitors! of course, right welcome they'll be; but I didn't know of any. Who are they? Do you think it's the O'Conors now, or may be the Mahoneys from Court Macherry. What are you staring at me like that for, child? If there are visitors coming, you and I must go and give them a right good hearty welcome; but who in the world can they be?"
"One of them is a schoolfellow of mine, her name is Janet May."
"Janet May," repeated the squire; "we don't have those sort of names in Ireland. A schoolfellow of yours? Then, of course, she'll be right welcome. A great friend, I suppose, my pet? She'll be welcome; very welcome."
"Look at me, daddy, for a minute," said Bridget, speaking quickly and in great excitement. "Let us welcome her, as of course all true Irish people ought to welcome their guests, but don't let's talk about her when you and I are alone. She has a sister coming too, and there's Aunt Kathleen waving her hands to us, and gesticulating. They must have arrived. If I had known it, I'd have ordered the bonfires to be lit on the hilltops, but I did not hear a thing about it until aunty told me a few minutes ago."
"It was remiss of Kathleen, very remiss," said the squire. "It is positively wanting in courtesy not to have the bonfires lit. Let's go up at once, Biddy, and meet your guests in the porch."
Squire O'Hara took his daughter's hand. They climbed the ascent swiftly together, and were standing in the porch, Lady Kathleen keeping them company, when the jaunting car drew up.