There were sounds like "Ohone! ohone! Oh, dear me, Oh, dear me! Oh, it's me heart that's torn to tatters!" Margot could not get Aunt Norah to listen to her; so she left her. She went to her own little room, and opening a certain drawer took out her purse. It had been well stored by _la belle_ grand'mère. There were a great many gold pieces in it. Margot did not stop to think how many. The sun was shining to-day. She put on a neat little dark-blue serge frock and her pretty crimson cap, and went straight to the house where Samuel Flannigan lived. It was a very small house and very shabby. It was close to the church; and the front door stood open. Margot entered. She went down the narrow hall and into the tiny front sitting-room, where the blinds were drawn down and where Samuel Flannigan was seated, his face buried in his hands, his great ungainly shoulders shaken with sobs. Margot went up and touched him somewhat delicately. "I don't want you, Miss Margot," he said. "It's your sort that does the mischief; but for you I wouldn't have lost my little girl." "Mr. Flannigan, I've done no mischief, except that I made you blush. I'm sorry I did that--I am truly. I want to tell you that you need never blush any more, and you'll get your little _wee_ young girlie if only you have patience and behave like a man. _I've_ taken the matter up, Mr. Flannigan, and I mean to succeed. Good-bye, now, and cheer up. Things will come right soon, but not quite immediately. Trust me, Mr. Flannigan, and forgive me for making you blush such an awful ugly red." Flannigan looked vacantly at the pretty child. Somehow a gleam of hope did stir in his heart. That child was very uncommon and remarkable. He had never, never seen her like before. He wondered whether he could manage to run away with Norah. But ten minutes after Margot had departed, his little flicker of courage had left him, and he sat down a weary, desolate man, who felt very old and good-for-nothing. He was really fond of Norah, and he did not see why he should be abused because his grandfather was a labourer on the Desmondstown estates. Meanwhile Margot, having quite made up her mind, went quickly in the direction of Phinias Maloney's bit of a houseen. She kissed the children who were basking in the sun and picking flowers to throw them away again. She snatched up the baby and covered his small face with her kisses. Then she went into the little kitchen to Annie Maloney. "Why, whatever," exclaimed Annie; "my blessed missie, what do you want?" "Where's Phinias?" asked little Margot. "He's over beyont; ye can see him if ye look. He's planting cabbages for the summer." "Annie," said Margot, "are you great enough to be good in a very great cause?" "Well, now, whatever does the bit thing mean?" said Annie. "I want Phinias. Will you give him to me?"