70 GARRYOWEN 



papers and books came little in her way, for 

 French was not a reading man. 



" Where's your spectacles? " asked Effie, after 

 they had conversed for a while, tucking the rug 

 round herself and speaking with the jocularity 

 and familiarity which generally is associated with 

 long acquaintanceship. 



" I beg your pardon," said Miss Grimshaw. 



" Father said you'd be in spectacles." 



" Oh, my spectacles? They are coming by the 

 next train — also my snuff-box and a birch rod." 



" Get out with you," said Miss French, moving 

 under the rug as if someone had tickled her. 

 "Your snuff-box and your birch rod! Get out 

 with you! " 



It was the first time that Miss Grimshaw had 

 come across a child brought up almost entirely by 

 servants — and Irish servants at that — but there 

 was an entire good-humour about the product 

 that made it not displeasing. 



" So that's how you welcome me, telling me to 

 get out almost as soon as I have come! Very 

 well, I am going." 



" Off with you then," rephed the other, falling 

 into the vein of badinage as easily as a bilHard 

 ball into a pocket. " Potwallop along with you. 

 / don't care. Hi! come back! " 



" What is it? " inquired Miss Grimshaw, now at 

 the door, with her hand on the door handle. 



" I want to tell you somethin'." 



" Well? " 



