Now the sight of the excellent food was certainly reviving to Matilda Raynes and when Malachi offered to lead her to the festive board, doing so with a succession of hops and skips and jumps, she suddenly found herself bursting into fits of laughter. "Are you one of the old-youngs?" she managed to whisper to him. "I'm nothing, I'm only Malachi. I breed horses, that's what I do. Would you like me to mount ye on one to-morrow." "I would," said Tilly, her eyes sparkling. "Then I will if ye stop that hullabaloo." "You'll hold me tight, for I've never rode in my life," said Tilly. "Ah, blessings on the girleen, but ye can learn for shure!" "Yes, I can learn." "I expect you can. Norah, pour out a glass of milk for her. Biddy, acushla, I'm ready for some of that home-brewed beer. Now then, babies all, to supper!" The supper was so good and the old-young people were so merry that Tilda forgot her fears. She longed inexpressibly for Margot and for the refined life of the French school at Arles; but nevertheless there were never any potatoes like these, and Malachi had such a twinkle in his eye, and whenever she glanced at Bruce he winked back at her in the most comforting way. Then Norah's and Bridget's mirth was irresistible; in short Tilly began to enjoy herself, and when by-and-bye Margot crept into the room set apart for Reparation, in which the young girl was lying sound asleep, she felt comparatively happy about her. Margot was on her way to her own room, the dressing-room of The Desmond, when she unexpectedly and to her intense joy met her beloved Uncle Jacko. She stopped him at once. He put his arm round her and kissed her. "Uncle Jacko, you are a holy priest, aren't you?" "I'm a clergyman of the Church of England, my dear little girl." "Uncle Jacko, I had to bring Tilly here--I didn't want to, but she--she's Reparation." "I don't understand you, my pet." "Oh, Uncle Jacko, I hadn't any opportunity to tell you when we were coming here, and it was a long, a very long journey, and I _was_ tired, and Tilly was tired, and you were tired, but now, oh, I must tell you in as few words as possible. Uncle Jacko, your own little Marguerite told a black, black lie!" "You didn't," said Uncle Jacko, starting back as though something pressed against his heart.