Margot sat very still for a few minutes. "Phinias," she said, then, "I have a little money, a very little money by me. Can I have a bite and a sup to eat and drink?" "To be sure ye can; for sartin ye can. What 'ud ye fancy now? A drop of whisky I'd say, or a bottle of Guinness' stout." "Oh, no, please; may I have a cup of tea and a little bread and butter?" "I'll get it for ye, honey bird, and for the Lord's sake don't mention the word _age_ in Ould Ireland. There ain't sich a thing. Mind me now and be careful!" "I will," said Margot, "I'll be very careful." Presently the farmer returned with some very uninteresting tea and bread and butter, which he offered to the little girl. She was hungry and faint, also, for all this unexpected excitement had made her terribly tired. But when she offered to pay, Phinias shook his shaggy head. "Not me," he said, "not a bit of me. I guess ye'll want your money, for them colleens and boys at Desmondstown. This 'ull pay for some of the eggs that your uncle, John Mansfield, robbed from the birdies afore he turned a howly saint." So Margot ate her uninteresting meal, found the stewardess extremely kind, got into the berth reserved for her and slept soundly until she was awakened at 6 o'clock on the following morning by Phinias himself. "Here we be, missie; here we be. If we are quick we can get lovely coffee at the restaurant in the station and then off we goes to Kerry. I'll take ye as far as the gates of Desmondstown and don't ye fear nuthin'. Be as free as ye like with Miss Norah and Miss Bridget and Miss Eileen, and be playful as a kitten wid Master Bruce and Master Malachi, but hold yeself in a bit with Madam Desmond and The Desmond and Fergus, the future heir. There! I can say no more. We'll be travelling third, forsooth, in order to make the money go, and I'll be surrounded by ould friends--only don't ye forget there's NO AGE in Ould Ireland. Kape that fact stuck in your breast and all 'ull go well. Ah, never mind favouring the stewardess with a tip--shure, Mrs. Mulchi, ye wouldn't be robbin' the poor orphan." "To be sure I wouldn't, Phinias," replied Mrs. Mulchi. Margot was now intensely excited, although she did feel a certain sense of disappointment at observing that the grass was much the same colour as the grass in England. That the trees also appeared much about the same; and even the flowers, the daisies and buttercups were what she was accustomed to. But Phinias Maloney supplied her with an excellent breakfast of good coffee, bread and butter, new-laid eggs and honey. "Ye'll be wantin' all ye can git," he said, "and I tell ye what I knows. Stuff it in, stuff it in, missie, and thin we'll take our places in the train. Ah, to be sure won't thim giddy young things be glad to lay eyes on ye?" "Do you think they will, Phinias?" answered Margot, who regarded the uncouth Irishman now as an old friend. "Do you really and truly mean it?"