"Oh, you are a dreadful, dreadful pushkeen," said Aunt Norah. "But I'll forgive you all your wild ways and tell you my little beautiful secrets if you promise not to say a word of this--this meeting, to my father, nor my sisters, nor my brothers." Margot was rather beguiled by the thought of being Aunt Norah's confidante. "I'll keep your secret as safe--as safe can be for _one week_," she said. "You can tell himself there'll be _only_ ten, and that I my very self will pick them out of the choicest cabbages. Now, good-bye. I'd love to see you hugging each other, and I'm sorry they won't be pretty, but, you see, you aren't, and he isn't, and the cabbages are _very particular_ whom they send the wee babies to. Well, I must be off." Little Margot rushed back to the house. She felt rather cold and chill. Aunt Norah's news by no means pleased her. She had never liked Mr. Flannigan, and she disliked him more than ever now. Still, she had promised to keep Aunt Norah's secret for a week. It was an awful burden on her little mind; still, she must keep her word. The week went by, and after the first day, Margot began to enjoy herself. It was so very interesting to watch Mr. Flannigan blush. She had only to stare first at him, then at Aunt Norah, and behold, his entire face was crimson. She made little experiments with his blushes, and they succeeded to such an extent that the poor man was in agony. At last Aunt Norah had to take her away and speak to her. "Do you know, pushkeen," she said, "that you are making my Samuel very miserable?" "I?" said Margot. "I don't know what you mean." "Yes, but you are. You keep looking at him." "I can't help it; a cat may look at a king, Auntie Norah." "Yes; but a little girl ought not to make a very reverend and pious and good clergyman uncomfortable." "I never before thought he was reverend and pious," said Margot. "Well, he is; he's a clergyman of the Church of Ireland." "Do they all play _puss-in-the-corner_?" inquired Margot. "Oh, you silly, silly child. Now I'm going to show you something. It's a great secret. You must keep it tight in your heart." "I will, auntie. The week will be up to-morrow, remember, and I think I can bear an extra secret until then." Aunt Norah first of all walked to the door, which she locked. She then unlocked a certain drawer in her chest of drawers and produced a little box with a jeweller's name on it. She opened it and showed Margot a small, very poor-looking ring. It was without precious stones and had a twisted knot in the middle. "It's pretty," said Margot, dubiously. She knew good rings, having seen so many at Arles. "Pretty! you little cat; it's lovely." "What does the twist mean?" asked Margot. "That is a true lover's knot. This is my engagement ring. Dear Samuel went to Cork yesterday and bought it for me. Oh, Margot, when we are really married we'll live in a wee house of our own; and you shall come and see us, if you'll only promise not to talk about babies."