so much as a look for Michael and his friends. This aloofness galled them bitterly.
Had she only known such aristocratic indifference was rather cruel. For Michael's one distinction among his mates, apart from his skill as a marble-player, which was very considerable, was that he lived in the same street as Miss Kelly. She was out and away the most wonderful creature ever seen in that part of Laxton. It was hard to forgive her for carrying her head in the way she did, yet it somehow added still greater piquancy to a personality that simply haunted the manly bosoms of the neighborhood. But her aloofness was felt to be such a reflection upon Michael himself, that at last that warrior was moved to a desperate course.
He took the extreme measure of offering Miss Kelly his best blood alley. But it was in vain; Miss Kelly would have none of his best blood alley, or of its owner. Michael then decided upon war.
In discussing the Kellys on the domestic hearth, he had heard his mother cast grave doubts upon the ancestry of their so-called daughter. Therefore, the spirt of revenge, rankling in Michael's tormented breast, urged him to adopt a certain rhyme, current at the time, for the chastening of this haughty charmer. Together with a few chosen braves he lay in ambush for her as she wended her proud way home from Broadwood House Academy. As soon as Mary Kelly hove in sight round the corner of Grove Street, S.E., these heroes burst into song:—
"I am Mary Plantagenet.
What would imagine it?
Eyes full of liquid fire,
Hair bright as jet.
