"It seems to come down in a good pour," she said. "Still, I don't understand."
"You know about Madam and your granddad," cried young-old Aunt Norah.
"To be sure; am I wanting in sense entirely?"
"Well, they're married, the same as we'll be very soon, very soon."
"Oh, deary me!" cried little Margot. "That does sound lovely. Only you know, Mr. Samuel Flannigan, you haven't got the beautiful face of my granddad, so perhaps your little children won't be _quite_ as lovely. I wonder how many you'll have. My old nurse at Uncle Jacko's said that when I cracked my fingers, every crack meant a wee babe. Shall I crack them now for you two?"
"Oh, child, you are too awful," cried Aunt Norah, who found herself blushing in the most uncomfortable way.
But Margot took no notice of the blush, nor did she observe that the Rev. Samuel Flannigan had moved a trifle out of hearing. Margot gravely cracked her fingers. After a time she looked solemnly at young-old Aunt Norah and said:
"You'll have ten. They'll come out of the hearts of cabbages, and I'll order them for you one at a time, if you like; I'll go straight home now and begin to make the baby clothes."
"Margot, you are the most awful pushkeen in the wide world," said Aunt Norah. "You have made himself feel so ashamed that he can't look me in the face."
"All because of the dear little babies," said Margot. "I am more than surprised."
"Listen," exclaimed Norah, "no young girl ever talks on those subjects before marriage."
"Don't she? But why? I thought it was _so_ interesting."
"Have you told granddad yet that you are going to marry Mr. Flannigan?" inquired Margot.
"No; we don't want him to know yet. It would spoil the fun; and dear Samuel is so sensitive."
"I suppose so; I never thought it before, but if he's frightened of a wee thing like a babe, he must be. But, young-old Aunt Norah, you ought to tell granddad."
"I will, in good time, child; only it must be in my own way and in my own time. Samuel is the most blessed and holy man in the whole world."
"Well, I don't think he's quite that; for if he were he wouldn't play games like _puss-in-the-corner_ and _round the mulberry tree_ and _blind-man's buff_; and then, Aunt Norah, you _can't_ call him handsome. His nose, it cocks right up, and there's very little of it; and his mouth is _so_ wide; and he has teeny eyes; and his head is getting bald. Do you want to marry a man with a bald head, Aunt Norah? I'll tell you how I found it out. I saw you and him and Aunt Bridget talking and laughing and giggling the other day, and I thought it wasn't to say--well! what old-youngs did."