"I do not want my father to know," she said, with a break in her voice. "It would kill me if he knew. You see what he is, Janet, the soul of all that is noble and honorable. Oh, it would kill me if he knew what I have done; and I think it would kill him also. O Janet, why did you get me into such an awful scrape?"
"You didn't think it so very awful when you were knowing all your lessons, and getting praise from everyone, and mounting to the head of your class. It seemed all right to you then, and you never blamed me at all; but now that the dark side of the picture comes, and you are in danger of discovery, you see your conduct in a different light. I have no patience with you. You have the appearance of being a very brave girl; in reality you are a coward."
"No one ever said that to me before," said Bridget, clenching her hand, her eyes flashing.
"Well, I say it now; it's very good for the petted, and the courted, and the adored, to listen to unvarnished truths now and then. Oh, so you have come back, Sophy. Yes, those are pretty flowers, but perhaps Miss O'Hara doesn't wish you to pick her flowers."
"Not wish her to pick the flowers," said Bridget, "and she a visitor! What nonsense! Oh, you English don't at all know our Irish ways."
"I think you have quite lovely ways," said Sophy. "I never felt so happy in my life. I never, never was in such a beautiful place, and I never came across such truly kind people."
"Well, run on then," said Janet, "and pick some more of the flowers."
"There's one of those awful jaunting cars coming up the avenue," said Sophy.
"Then the boys have come," exclaimed Bridget. "I must fly to them."
She rushed away, putting wings to her feet, and the two May girls were left standing together. Janet was absorbed in a brown study. Sophy's eager eyes followed the car as it ascended the steep and winding avenue.