"Well now, madam, as if anybody couldn't see through that little thrick! To call her for a fightin' ould warrior that bet Cromwell an' held his own in spite of him! An' her havin' to grow up a young lady with nothin' but niceness in her! Ah, then now, madam, why didn't ye call her Mary, the same as her grandmother before her?" "We did, Nancy; you forget that we did," urged Madam mildly. "We named her Terencia Mary." "Then ye put the cart before the horse, madam," said Nancy, shaking her head grimly, "an' the ould warrior has got the foreway in her over the holy lady that has the best right in her, in regard of her sex. But don't fret now, madam, for it's my belief that the Mary is in her still, an' she'll be the gentlest yet that iver walked of the name. Only it's us that'll have a han'ful of her until the ould warrior has done with her." Madam smiled indulgently. Nurse Nancy would occasionally put forth a fantastic notion like this, but in the main she was a patient, prudent, wise creature who had well earned her honours in the family by long and faithful friendship as well as service. During her latter lonely years old Madam had drawn Nurse Nancy very close to her. While she smiled now she said: "We must remember that until a year ago Terry was brought up in Africa, was accustomed to perfect freedom, to long rides with her father, and all kinds of adventures." "And so was little Turly, madam. Not that he isn't as brave as anything, little darlin'; he'd follow Terry through thick an' thin, if it was through the fire. But still an' all it never does be him that sets the mischief goin'." "But Turlough is only eight years old. Terry is ten, and two years of a bush life at that age make a great deal more difference than the count of the days," said Madam musingly. Madam Trimleston was a pretty old lady who had soft white hair and sweet blue eyes, and wore handsome lace caps with peachy ribbons in them; and she usually sat in a high-backed arm-chair either at the fire or the window in her own room with Nurse Nancy attending on her. For Madam was very delicate, and since she had been left alone in old Trimleston House she rarely went down into the great rooms below. "It would make you cry," Nancy would say, "to see her sittin' there all by herself, afther the family she rared, an' them all scatthered about over the four corners of the earth; an' the rest o' them in heaven!"