No one knows my history
I am wrapt in mystery
I am the she-ro
Of a penny novelette."
On the occasion of the first performance, Miss Kelly did not deign to take the slightest notice. But after it had been repeated a number of times with increasing réclamce, it grew more than she could brook. One never-to-be-forgotten Friday evening, in the fall of the year, she suddenly handed her satchel of books to her friend, Rose Pierce, and with decks cleared for action and the flame of battle in her eyes, bore down upon the foe. Michael Conner afterwards took his book oath to the effect that he was not a coward. But the beaver hat, the purple ribbon, the blue ulster and the gilt buttons put the fear of God into him very surely. He ran. Alas, he was a stocky youth, not exactly an Ormonde, even in his best paces, whereas Mary Plantagenet, black stockings and all, moved like a thoroughbred. She chased him remorselessly the whole length of Longmore Street, through the Quadrant, finally cornered him in a blind alley in which he had the bad judgment to seek refuge, and soundly boxed his ears.
As far as Mary Kelly was concerned the incident was closed from that moment. Michael Connor very wisely decided to close it also. He returned to his marble-playing a chastened boy. But Rose Pierce, the daughter of Laxton's leading physician, told the story breathlessly at Broadwood House Academy on the following morning. All agreed that the prestige of the school had been seriously impaired, but Miss Kelly was Mary Plantagenet from that time on.
