So Ulick was persuaded, and he and his aunt made friends; he was so like her dear brother, not only in appearance, but ways, that she almost felt that it was she and the Ulick of her young days, once more _tête-à-tête_, and it was an easy matter to take his boy into her heart. The poor fellow, she knew, had a scanty allowance, and yet he had brought his little all, to his aunt’s old begging friend; she secretly resolved that that kindly meant loan, should be repaid by a great fortune. Mrs. Grogan drew the lad out about his regiment, his comrades, his plans, and tastes. She made him promise to write her long letters, to keep her well posted in his affairs, and ultimately to go over, and visit them. At ten o’clock she rose, and said-- “Now I must turn you out, for I’ve an early start to-morrow.” “You won’t think too badly of my mother and Barky, will you?” he pleaded. “My dear, I am not going to think of _them_, one mite! At first I felt mad: now I’m as cool as a cucumber. _You_ are enough for me. You may tell them it’s no matter, and they have got no need to worry. Now, good-bye, my dear Ulick, and bless you. Keep a corner in your heart for your old American auntie”; and she kissed him affectionately on both cheeks. Two or three minutes later the patient dairy pony was on his way home. It was considerably after ten o’clock when Ulick entered the dining-room and found his mother and Barky still sitting there. (For one thing it economised candle-light, and for another, Barky could smoke to his heart’s content.) “Ulick, this is a pretty hour for you to be coming home!” began his mother, in a high, excited key, “and you never told me you were dining out. I suppose these are military manners? Where have you been, pray?” “At ‘The Arms.’ I’ve had my dinner. I did not intend to stay, and I had no way of letting you know. I am sorry you waited.” “Oh, oh! I expect you were hob-nobbing with some _lady_, if the truth were known, you sly fox,” cried Barky. “Well, yes, you’ve made a good shot. I was dining with a lady. Now for it,” said Ulick to himself. “I know! The old bag-woman! Ha, ha, ha!” “Yes. And the old bag-woman turns out to be--who do you think? Our aunt Nora herself!” “Ah, man alive, you’re drunk,” shouted Barky, pushing back his chair. “Not I. I met her in the avenue this afternoon. I went down with a small loan I promised her, and after I got there, and saw her, she suddenly slipped off bonnet, wig, and cloak, and turned into a handsome, well-dressed, elderly lady!” Mrs. Doran, for once in her life, was too horrified to speak; her feelings were beyond the power of expression. Words failed her, and she simply sat glaring at her youngest son, as if he were some horrible monster. “She said she had long wished to come home and see us all, and what we were like?” he resumed, “but could not face the situation. At last, as her husband was over on business, she accompanied him, and explored about here, as you saw.”