"Yes," said Margot, "Phinias brought me. You'll keep him for to-night, and he'll go back to-morrow. Uncle Jacko, is Aunt Priscilla about?" "No, thank the Lord. She's gone missioning to Manchester." "I don't know what that is," said little Margot. "It's good work, very good work. She's a good woman," said Uncle Jacko. "Then we'll be alone?" "We will so, my bonny bird." "Then everything is going to come beautifully right," said Margot. "I think God is almost _too_ good, Uncle Jacko. Oh, I do love Him so tremendously." That evening the little girl told Uncle Jacko the entire story of Aunt Norah and Mr. Flannigan, of her grandfather's unaccountable rage and of her own determination that Aunt Norah and Mr. Flannigan should be happy. "He--granddad--can't live without _me_, Uncle Jacko, so you see I ran away. I'm going to send him back a letter to-morrow morning by Phinias Maloney. The very moment he says 'yes' about Aunty you'll take me back to him, won't you, Uncle Jacko?" "I will, my sweet child, although the parting with you will be a sort of tearing open of an old wound." "Oh, Uncle Jacko, he won't give way for a bit. We'll have some days to play--to be just a little boy and just a little girl together." If Uncle Jacko was delighted to see Margot, old Hannah's raptures were also beyond words. "Thank the Lord the missus is away missioning," she said, and then she hugged and kissed, and kissed and hugged Margot, and got her old tiny room warm and snug for her, and treated those two _children_, as she spoke of her master and Miss Margot, to the very best that the house could afford. Before she went to bed that night, however, Margot wrote a letter to granddad. It ran as follows: DARLINGEST AND BEST:-- I couldn't live even with _you_ at Desmondstown unless we were happy together. I couldn't bear to see your dear face all puckered up with sorrow, and with anger, which the beautiful God hates; so I have come away for a bit to Uncle Jacko; but when you feel that you can give your bit girleen to poor Sammy, why then--then I'll _fly_ back to you, for you'll be the noblest old man in the world--nobler than your pride; and I'll never leave you again, never, never. This is to say that I'm here and I'm safe, and my heart is full to the brim with love for you; so send for me _very_ quick indeed, my own granddad. P.S. Don't let your wee girlie get too old from sobbing. You and I, we both know that it isn't the way of the Desmonds. Be as quick as you can in settling the matter up. Forever and forever, Your PUSHKEEN. This letter was read by a broken-down old man who, for three days, had given up Margot as lost; whose heart was so completely broken with regard to her, that he did not give either Norah or Flannigan a thought. When the old man read Margot's letter he gave vent to a sort of yell of delight.