"I don't know what a scold is," said little Margot, "but I always said she was a wicked woman. Grand-dad, she didn't marry beneath her, she married far, far, far above her." "Yes, child, perhaps you are right. Let's see when you'll be coming back to me, pushkeen." "This is the 5th of June," said little Margot. "June one, July two, August three," said the old man. "Ye'll be back with me on the fifth of September." "I will that; I'll be mad to come back. You and Madam will keep watching and waiting for me." "Don't you doubt it, _acushla_, don't you doubt it." "And you won't grow any older, grand-dad, for that would be quite too terrible." "No fear of that," said The Desmond. "I'll keep up for your sake, _acushla mavourneen_." "And I for yours," said little Margot. Then she kissed the old man, and left Desmondstown. The little old trunk was packed and Malachi took it to the gate where the same funny, springless little cart was waiting for it. Bruce and Fergus and the three young old Miss Desmonds accompanied Margot to the little cart. She rode on Fergus's shoulder up the avenue. It was Malachi who lifted her into the cart. Phinias Maloney was there to drive her to the station and Phinias Maloney's young wife and the baby and the other children were all clustering round to bid the little Comtesse good-day. Meanwhile in the beautiful and celebrated town of Arles in South France great and intense excitement was going on, for Madame la Comtesse St. Juste was making what she considered suitable preparations for the arrival of her husband's granddaughter. She had from her own stores supplied innumerable frocks in French style for the little one to wear. Not only did she provide frocks, but daintily frilled petticoats and chapeaux of the very best, and open-work silk stockings and little delicate kid shoes to match the frocks--in short, she had a complete wardrobe suitable for the very small Comtesse, who was to be the future delight of that adorable one, her Alphonse. The railway journey was very long and little Margot was tired. She loved her Irish grandfather, but thought nothing at all about her French one. She was troubled in her mind, too, at the thought of parting with her beloved Uncle John. "Oh, Jacko, my Latin and Greek," she sobbed. They were getting very close to Arles when she said this, and John Mansfield took her in his big arms and kissed her over and over again, telling her that she must be a very good little girl and that she was indeed lucky to have not only one but two such loving grandparents. "I would much rather have only one," said little Margot. "I don't understand the double. Why should there be a double, Uncle John? Why, I'd even put up with----" "With what, _mavourneen_?" "Why, _herself_, the good woman, to be near _you_," said the child.