"Oh, pixie, pixie, don't come near us," cried Norah. "Mr. Flannigan, keep the pixie away for Heaven's sake." "I'm not a pixie," said little Margot. "I know you are very young, Aunt Norah, and you are very young, Aunt Bridget, but I'm your niece for all that. I am Marguerite St. Juste. I've come to pay my relations a visit. Uncle Jack wrote a letter to The Desmond. The Desmond is my grandfather. Aren't you expecting me? I'm glad to come, but I'd like well to be expected." The two Misses Desmond stared with all their might and main at the pretty child, then Miss Bridget Desmond gave a sort of whoop and spring in the air, while Miss Norah laughed till her sides shook. "Heaven preserve us!" she exclaimed. "You don't suppose letters are _ever_ read at Desmondstown? Oh, but we are right glad to see you--don't make any mistake on that point. We are as pleased as Punch, aren't we, Bridget?" "That we are," said Bridget. "Don't hold my sash so tight, Mr. Flannigan, I can't be bothered playing horse any more." "Oh, good little girls, dear little girls," said Mr. Flannigan, "I'll come in again to-morrow and play horses with all three of ye. But ye might introduce me to the small colleen." "She's my niece," said Norah Desmond. "She's the daughter of my dearest beautiful sister, Kathleen, and there's scarce a year between the child and us, that I can vouch for." "To be sure, ye needn't be talkin' about that," said Mr. Flannigan. "Why I see it in your faces--ye are three babies together." Little Margot gave a quick sigh. She remembered, however, the words of Phinias and took no apparent notice of the fact that Aunt Norah must be close on fifty and Aunt Bridget forty-eight. "We'll take you back home with us, little 'un," said the youngest of the Misses Desmond. "Here, let's scamper down the avenue. Good day to ye, Mr. Flannigan. There's no more playing at horses to-night. The pixie is tired, so she is. Here, catch her under the arm, Bridget, and I'll take her on the other side. Now then, put out your best foot, colleen bawn, you'll soon be home. Eh, but it's an elegant place you are coming to." The tumbled, untidy sisters managed to get little Margot down the rest of the avenue, and presently they all bounded into the house, Miss Norah giving vent to a loud "Whoop!" as she did so. This noise brought two untidy looking men on the scene. "Be the powers, now, pixie, these are me brothers," said Norah. "This one is Bruce and this one is Malachi--the finest horse-breaker in the whole kingdom." "Oh, are you indeed, are you indeed?" said little Margot, "and you are very young, too, though you _look_ old." "It's the climate, _acushla_," said Malachi, "but whatever brings ye wandering round, and who are ye, when all's said and done?"