They looked at each other with a world of love in their eyes. That love had never been so strong as since the adorable grandchild had appeared on the scene. It had nearly killed them to part with her, but she was coming back again. Their night of weeping was turned into a morning of joy. CHAPTER XII. GEM OF THE OCEAN. There was no doubt on this occasion with regard to the welcome prepared for little Margot St. Juste. She and her beloved Uncle John and the _Reparation_, as she called the uninteresting English girl, arrived at the station nearest to Desmondstown somewhat late at night. Matilda was overcome with delight at the thought of her three weeks at Desmondstown. She begged and implored of Margot to call her Tilly. Margot said, "That's not your name in my mind," but when Uncle Jacko looked at the little girl out of his kind, thoughtful, sweet eyes, she felt a sudden lump rising in her throat. Why should she be unkind to Tilly? "I'll call you Till," she said, "only please don't clasp my hand quite so tight. I'm an Irish girl and this is Ireland, beautiful Ireland." "The first gem of the ocean, The first pearl of the sea," murmured Uncle Jacko. "Yes, that's right," said Margot. "You'll see what it is like in the morning, Till, and grandfather, the blessed darling, says that you may stay for three whole weeks. That is, if you are good." "Of course I'll be good; I'll be very good indeed," said Tilly. "Anyone would be good with _la petite_ Comtesse." "I'm not _la petite_ Comtesse here," said Margot. "I'm 'pushkeen' here, and most likely the old-youngs will call you 'nanny-goat.'" "Nanny-goat! But I won't be nanny-goat," said Matilda, thoroughly offended. "Well, we'll see, but you can't help yourself." "And who are the old-youngs?" asked Tilly. "You'll see them also, Till," remarked Margot. "Oh, Uncle Jacko, darling Uncle Jacko, have we arrived?" "We have, _acushla machree, alanna_--heart's best darling," said the elderly clergyman, clasping the child for one swift moment tightly in his arms. "Ah, but you are the soul of my soul," he muttered. Tilly looked on in amazement. She began to consider all these foolish words, none of which she could understand, as a certain token that the Irish were half mad. Still it was glorious to be close to _la petite_ Comtesse. The train drew up at the station in that slow, drawling way in which Irish trains mostly do in out-of-the-way places, and lo and behold wherever Margot looked, she saw great bonfires and smiling faces and there, as large as life, were Phinias Maloney and the wife also of Phinias Maloney, and their two big "childer" and the infant who one moment howled, and the next screeched with delight.