"Yes; but for the Lord's sake don't mention the awful time when the old man is took from us." "Oh, Uncle Fergus, I _do_ love you," said Margot and she bent down and kissed him on his brow. It was two or three days later that The Desmond and his son, Fergus, had a long and important conversation behind locked doors. "I'm willing to do my share," said Fergus Desmond. "I knew you were, my boy. You have never disappointed me yet." "And I won't begin now, father," said the son. "We can't let her go," said The Desmond, "that's the thing." "I see your heart is set on her," remarked Fergus. "Set on her! It is fastened on her like a vise. I don't know myself since she came to the place. She's her blessed mother back again. Who is that man who has the charge of her, Fergus? Is he her uncle at all, at all?" "She seems very fond of him," said Fergus, "but I don't see how he can be her uncle. He has taken very good care of her all these years, and never asked us for so much as a penny." "I tell you what it is, Fergus," said The Desmond. "You must go across the water and see the man and put it straight to him that we can't give her up." "I don't see how I can exactly do that, father," said Fergus; "he's had her since she was a babe and maybe she is as much to him as she is to us." "Fergus, you talk folly. Is The Desmond's heart to be broken because of a common sort of chap like John Mansfield?" "We must act fair," said Fergus, "and what's more, if we adopt her, we must adopt her properly. She must be schooled. She must be treated like the lady she is. We don't want any more Norahs and Bridgets in the house." "No, no; of course not, of course not," said The Desmond. "She must be taught," said Fergus Desmond, "and the teaching will cost money, a sight of money. I know a lady who'd do it," he continued. "Miss Drusilla McNab--she has got fine learning entirely, foreign languages and all else, and she can play the piano and sing to make your heart burst. I might manage to settle it with her if we paid her properly, but we can't have one of the Desmonds disgracing herself and us by eating the bread of charity." "How old is Drusilla McNab?" asked The Desmond. "She's thirty-five, father, and she lives at Rockingham, and Malachi could drive the kiddie over there each morning and fetch her back in the evening. But we couldn't offer Miss Drusilla less than £20 a year. We couldn't in all decency." "Oh, Lord!" exclaimed The Desmond. "Twenty pounds, when we have scarcely got so many pence. Can't you and I teach the bit thing, Fergus?" "No, we can't," said Fergus. "She must be taught properly and like a real, out-and-out lady. Miss McNab was educated in Paris and the pushkeen is going to be a wonderful beauty. She must be taught according to her station. She'll make a fine match some day." "I want her to stay with me," said The Desmond. "I don't wish for any of those fine matches for the pretty dear."