“Because the windows, as ye see, are big, and I was working round the flower-beds. And sure, didn’t all the world know ye were baptised that day; her ladyship, your mother, wished it. I saw ye; we all did, for his lordship was the proud man. Ye were wrapped up in a white shawl, and had a head on you as red as a carrot, and a screech out of ye like a peacock. More betoken, there was a peacock sitting on the roof; it came over from Lord Warner’s place. When I saw it, the heart crossed in me, for them’s, as ye know, the _unlucky_ birds. Sure enough that night her ladyship took bad. Oh, it would have made a great differ to you, aye and to every one, if she had lived; and by all accounts she found it terribly hard to go and leave ye all.” “Who told you?” inquired the girl under her breath. “Oh, I heard it. When she knew she had but a couple of hours to spare, she sent for his lordship and talked, talked, talked, striving her best to comfort him, and telling him to be brave, with her very last breath. Oh, ’twas she had a spirit, and when she went it made small differ to her--sure, she was always an angel.” “She was buried over in England?” “Yes, and with Katty Foley’s three-months baby lying alongside of her.” “Well, I’m glad I’ve come here, Mike, and seen this place and had a talk with you--you who found it all out. Somehow it makes things seem more _real_. But I’ll never get used to it--never; and that’s as true as I am standing here.” “Oh, yes, ye will; only take your time. When you get fine dresses, and learn talk and manners, it will be as easy to you as eating your dinner.” “But sure, I’ve no talk, and no manners, Mike.” “You’ll soon learn them, me dear, for ye see it’s not as if you were a real common country girl; ye have her ladyship’s manners and talk _in_ ye somewhere, and they are bound somehow or other to come out! I tell ye this, that in a year’s time you won’t know yourself, and I won’t know you.” “But I will always know _you_, Mike; and you must come over to England, and see me, if I am to have any say.” “I think you’ll find you’ll have a good say.” “Perhaps with his lordship, for--for”--with an effort--“my mother’s sake; but the ladies.” “Sure, aren’t you a lady, me darlin?” “No, no! I feel so frightened of all that’s before me.” “And what would frighten ye? Keep a stout heart--be a good girl; what harm can come to you? One would think they’d ate yer!” “People have a way of doing that, sometimes.” “I know what ye mane--some bad ones, that never has a good word for a crature, and are always chewing up others and passing remarks; but the likes of them are not among the gentry!” (Poor simple Mike!) “All your friends is proud for ye, but sorry for themselves, ye being taken up out of their station. There’s one, howsomever, that will be glad of yer uprise, when he hears it.” Here Mike paused, and his expression became shrewd and personal.