Then she turned to Aline in her quick way, which reminded me of a bird pecking. "I suppose you wonder where I've come from after all those years?" "I hope you've come back to Annagower to stay." "To make my exit, my dear. I've been racketing all those years up and down the world, and now I've come back to 'make my soul'. Ireland's a pleasant place to die in." "You don't look like dying," said Aline with truth. "Nor feel like it, my dear; but I am an old woman--seventy years of age. I thought I'd like to lie beside poor Sir Peter at the last, though it's so long since he went he must have given up expecting me, poor man. But where's my girl?" she asked with startling suddenness; "I don't see her yet." "Esther?" said Aline. "She is out, Lady O'Brien, but I hope she will be in before you go. Now, you'll have some tea," for at this moment little Annie appeared with the tea-tray, casting at the same time alarmed glances at the old lady, who indeed looked exactly like a witch. "If it's fresh and well-made, my dear, and you can give me cream with it. My doctor-man at Monte Carlo has absolutely forbidden me tea, so that if I am to ruin my stomach it must be for something worth having." "You could have milk if you preferred it," suggested Aline. "I haven't cut my second milk-teeth yet, my dear. Thank you, that looks very nice. Gebhardt, the doctor-man, was rather a fool. I often told him so. But, bless you, doctors must be saying something." Lady O'Brien was graciously pleased to approve of the tea and the thin brown bread-and-butter, for which she displayed a most youthful appetite. When she had finished she dusted off the crumbs from her silk lap. "Well, I suppose I must be going," she said, "for there are Daisy and Dobson both fast asleep in the sun, though I always tell them they'll get sunstroke one day." We followed her gaze out to the space before the window, where a little basket phaeton stood, with an old pony, evidently asleep, and a fat coachman, also slumbering, as she had said. "By the way," she said as she stood up, "where are all the others? Where is the boy who was next to you? A very handsome boy he promised to be. I should like to see him. I adore handsome boys." "He is in the garden, Lady O'Brien," answered Aline, sadly, "and I am sure he would like to see you. But he is not strong." Her face quivered suddenly. "Indeed his lungs are affected, and we fear he will never be very well again." The old lady's manner changed quite suddenly to one of the utmost kindness and sympathy. "Indeed, my dear," she said earnestly, "I am very sorry for that. The young should be well and happy. You think I might see him, hey?" "I am sure you might," said Aline, smiling. "A visit from you could do nothing but good."