me, an' O'ill be doin' betther at some ither thrade."
She was a motherless bairn who had run wild on her native heath. She had never even been in a city before setting sail for the new land where all was "sthrange" to her.
"Sheila," I found myself saying unpremeditatedly, "does it seem very far away to you here, and do we talk queer?"
"Youse do that," responded Sheila with unmistakable fervor.
"And we seem to have a great many different things to eat, don't we," I went on, following up my inspiration.
"Youse do," sobbed Sheila again with prompt and emphatic concurrence.
"And—and anything else, Sheila?"
"'Cept jest that she do be makin' me feel O'im the dthirt undther her feet."
"Well, but Sheila, my dear (yes, I said 'my dear') you're not to let yourself be feeling that way any more. It isn't true. She hasn't meant it that way. It's just her manner. And she's leaving us in a day or two anyway. And you know I couldn't get on by myself the way things are, now could I? No; and you'll stay
