"My dear, I can't, of course, really object. You want to have a little supper?"
"Yes; if I may."
"You may, Kate; you are a good girl; we all like you, and I am not going to refuse the first request you have ever asked me."
"Thank you a thousand times! How truly kind you are! Will you add to the favor you are conferring on me by being one of my guests?"
"If you really wish it, of course, my dear; but will it not spoil the fun?"
"I don't think there will be much fun."
"What do you mean?"
"Will you come, Miss Leicester? I really can't explain myself."
"Kate, you don't look happy. Is anything the matter, my dear child?"
"You will know if you come on Saturday. Of course there is nothing the matter—I mean nothing of consequence. Please come! I am Irish; I am subject to moods—to many moods."