"You will be so set up now, Susan Hopkins, that we won't be able to bear you in the same class," said Clara Sawyer.
"Go on," exclaimed Hannah Johnson—"go on and tell us what you want. Your horrid brooch doesn't interest us. What have you got to say?"
"You are mad with jealousy, and you know it," answered Susy. "Well, I am coming to the great news. The Irish girl's name is Kathleen O'Hara, and she comes from a castle over in the wild west of Ireland. Her father is very rich, and he keeps dogs and horses and carriages and—oh, everything that rich people keep. Compared to the other girls in the school, she is ten times a lady; and she has a true lady's heart. And she has taken a dislike, as far as I can see, to Alice Tennant."
"And I'm sure I'm not surprised," said Rosy Myers.
"Stuck-up thing!" said Clara Sawyer.
"Dirt beneath our feet!" exclaimed Hannah Johnson.
"Well; she doesn't like her either, though she doesn't use that kind of language," continued Susy. "Anyhow, she wants to befriend us—Oh, do let me speak!"—as Kate interrupted with a hasty exclamation. "She thinks that we are just as good as herself. There is no false pride about a real lady, girls; and the end of it is that she has a plan to propose—something for our benefit and for her benefit. See for yourselves; this is her letter. It is
in her own beautiful Irish, handwriting. You can read it, only don't tear it all to bits."
The girls did read the letter. They pressed close together, and one peeped over the shoulder of her companion, another stood on tiptoe, while a third tried to snatch the letter from the hand of her fellow; but all managed to read the words: "Get as many foundation girls as you can to meet me, at whatever place you like to appoint, this evening. I have a plan to propose." This letter and the end of the postscript excited the girls; there was no doubt whatever of that. "The plan is gloryious." They laughed at the word, smiled into each others' faces, and stood very close together consulting.
"The old quarry," whispered Rosy.