"Here it is," said Margot, "here it is. Read it at once, will you, and let me sit on your knee. I'm so glad you are old, really old. I don't care for young people, not a bit. I know it is the will of the Almighty that they must be young and keep young, but I like you because you are old and my grand-dad. Please, please, let me sit on your knee." Just at that moment another door opened and a tall, stern-looking man, with a strong resemblance to The Desmond, appeared on the scene. "Why, look here, Fergus," said The Desmond, "this little pilcheen has come along, and she is own daughter to my Kathleen, bless her. Bid her welcome, Fergus. She shall have the best the house contains. Here's your grandmother, missie, but you shall talk first with me. Norah, order the dressing-room next to mine to be got ready for her, and have a tray full of the best food brought into my smoking-room. Now then, pilcheen----" "I'd rather you called me Margot, please, grand-dad." "Margot," said the old man, "Margot! There's no sense in such a word. There! I'll call you Maggie; but you ought to have been christened Kathleen, after her--her that's gone--her that was as the light of my life. Girls, stir yourselves, and get everything ready for little Maggie. Don't stare and gape any more. The child has come to us and she is welcome and she shall stay as long as she likes. Now, my colleen asthore, this lady is your grandmother, this is Madam Desmond. Girls, stir yourselves and get things for the child to eat. Get the very best the house contains and put the best furniture into the dressing-room. Ain't she Kathleen's child? Madam, you and I and the little pilcheen can sup together in the smoking-room. She's mighty like our Kathleen, don't you think so, Madam?" "I do so," said Madam, "and I'm fairly hungry to kiss her, Fergus." "All right. Little pilcheen, you go along and kiss Madam six times and no more, then come back to me. My God, I thank thee; she's my Kathleen come to life again." Little Margot had quite got over her shyness. She was bewildered by the queer manners of her so-called juvenile aunts, but grand-dad and Madam delighted her. She climbed willingly on the old man's knee and nestled snugly against his breast. "You are a very old man, aren't you, grand-dad?" "I am so, Maggie, and why shouldn't I be?" "I'm so glad," said little Margot. "And Madam is old, too," continued the child. Madam smiled, nodded and kissed her hand. "Yes, darling, I'm quite old; thank the Almighty." "Then I'm real, real glad," said Margot. "It is so difficult to understand old young people or young old people, I don't know which to call 'em." "Listen to me, Margot," said her grandmother. "Your aunts, Eileen, Norah, and Bridget, are young maids in their first dawn, and so for that matter are Fergus and Bruce and Malachi also young as young can be."