"Yes, yes," said The Desmond. "Ye'll go off like a good colleen and when ye are lying between the sheets--the finest linen for that matter---- Mary, you didn't have any but the finest sheets put on the pushkeen's bed?" "To be sure not, Fergus, why should I?" "Well, that's all right. You run off, my colleen, and I'll come and kiss you good-night, just as I kissed my own Kathleen before the Frenchman took her." So Margot, being very weary, obeyed. The leather portmanteau stood in a very old and bare room, and Madam herself unpacked it and took out what the child wanted for the night. At last the little tired limbs lay between the soft Irish linen sheets and Madam kissed her grandchild two or three times, whilst big tears filled her eyes. "What are you crying for, you darling old lady?" said little Margot. "I'm thinking of my Kathleen," said Madam. "I'm her little girl, therefore I'm _your_ little girl," said Margot, pressing her small lips together in ecstasy. "Kiss me, grandmother. Grandmother, you love me, too." "I do, my best mavourneen, but now I must go and get himself up, or he'll rage at me." Madam tripped downstairs and presently returned with The Desmond. He had evidently given her a hint to leave him alone with Margot. When they were quite alone together, he pulled the curtains across one of the windows and opened the window a little wider to let in the fresh air, then he came close to Margot's side and kneeling down by her made the following speech: "Ye need have no fear in ye, my push-keen colleen. Do ye see that door? It opens into Madam's room and mine. If you call out even a whisper I'll be with ye. Now say your hymn like a good child and God bless ye." "My hymn, what hymn?" said Margot in some astonishment. "Why, didn't they never teach it to ye? What a powerful, wicked shame, but you are young and you'll soon learn. Your mother used to say it to me every night when she was a young 'un. Come, fold your little hands and follow me with the words." Margot did so. The hymn was a very baby one and very well known, but Aunt Priscilla had never thought it worth her while to teach it to the baby Margot. The Desmond had different views. "Now begin, _acushla machree_." Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child, Pity my simplicity, Suffer me to come to thee. Fain would I to thee be brought, Dearest Lord, forbid it not; In the Kingdom of thy grace Grant a little child a place. CHAPTER IV. OLD YOUNG PEOPLE.