The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1873-10-24
Kd7HLEEN- THE STORY OFAN
IRISH GIRL.

kathleen, is it possible that you are
crying again? Did I not tell you that 1
should discharge you if I found you
indulging in this foolish whimpering any
more"
Poor Kathleen O'Neil had been dust
ing the elegantly furnished drawing
room, and she stood before an exquisite
little painting of one of the blue, spark
ling Irish lakes, set in gold-green shores,
with sky beyond like liquid amber
stood, with her apron to her eyes, and
her ruddy checks deluged with tears.
81 couldn't help it, ma'am," she
sobbed, "but it puts me in mind of
home"
"Homer' scornfully echoed Mrs.
Arnott. "Your home! A shanty in
a bog" 1t isn't likely that you ever
saw such spot as that y
"'Deed did l, then, ma am, answered
Kathleen, "and many time. For we
lived beyant them same green shores,
when"
"There, then, that will do, said Mrs.
Arnott co'dly. 81 do not care about
any "reminiscences.
kathleen did not understand the five
syIlatled word, but her quick nature
comprehended the bitter, sarcastic tone.
The tears were froze in their fount-the
scarlet spots glowed in either cheek.
"She looks down on me, as if l were
dog" Kathleen thought to herself.
"And sure it's the same flesh and blood
God has given to both of us. How
would she like it, / wonder, if it was
her in a strange land, and never kind
word spoken to her, o, but if L could
see the mother, and little Honora, and
Teddy, that's but baby yet ! but the
wide blue sea rolls between us, and its
all alone l am =
Poor Kathleen the sense of dessla-
ton came upon her with sickening power
Just then, as she stood before the pic
ture of the sweet Irish lake, with the
wet splashes on her cheek, and Mrs.
Arnott's cold, hard voice yet sounding
in her ears.
"It's great trial to be obliged to do
with these wild, untutored Irish.
Kathleen was inst bringing up the tray,
and Mrs. Arnott's words sounded dis
tinctly in her ears, as she paused on the
top step to get breath.
"Of course, my DEAR" said Mrs.
Tudor Audor, sympathetically. "They're
bad-thoroughly and systematically bad,
the whole lot of 'em. I'd send them all
back to their native country, if it lay In
my power.
Iwish they we're all at the bottom
of the sea-" said Mrs. Arnott, sharply,
and then, perhaps, We should have
chance to employ Swedish or Chinese,
or somebody that would at least earn
their bread. Is that you, kathleen
Why don't you bring the ice-water In al
once, instead of standing dawdllne
there 2"
Kathleen obeyed, but the dreary,
home sick feeling that thrilled through
all her pulses can hardly be described.
eff 1 was only at home again, she
thought, Sin bonny Ireland, where the
poorest and the meanest have KIND
word for each other They scorn ane
hate me here; and sure I've tried to de
my best, but the lady has got heart o
stone, and even the little children in thu
nursery, with their French maid, mak'
game of Irish Kathleen"
:. And the lonely exile wept herself t.
Sleep upon her solitary pillow tina
night. 1t was a mere closet OF room
without light or ventilation, that sh'
occupied. Mrs. Arnott thought an.
place was good enough for Kathleei
O'Neil; the bed was bard and INSULT
GENTLY provided with clothing, but a
Mrs. Arnott carelessly observed, 1t wa'
no doubt, a great deal better than wha