"Oh, are you? Well, you can take me round presently, if you like. There are lots of others, aren't there? Of course, I know that poor mumsie is dead and gone——"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, keep cheerful, Henny!" "That's what I'm trying to do. Will someone pay the driver; I have no money."
"I'll see to it," said Dominic, going into the hall.
"Why, there is another boy!" cried Daisy. "What's your name, scamp?"
"It's not Scamp," said Denis O'Brien, who, although he was much younger than Dominic, had a good deal of Irish pride packed away in his eleven years of life. "My name is Denis O'Brien."
"Well, well, don't be huffy, kid. Whoever is that little sprite over there? A mite of a thing—a sort of changeling!"
Daisy's mocking finger pointed to pretty Kitty, who burst into floods of terrified tears and rushed to Maureen for comfort.
"Oh, come, Daisy, you must not speak of my youngest child in that tone," said the Rector. "She is my sweet little Kitty, and the dearest little pet."
"And whoever is that rag of a girl?"