Little Margot looked with her firm, clear, very dark eyes full into the face of Madame Marcelle. It seemed to her that she did not believe her in the least. Nevertheless, the woman had told her what was beyond doubt the apparent truth. The little Comtesse attended to her usual duties, and in the end wrote a letter to Matilda Raynes, telling her that she would write to her grandfather and, if all went well, would invite her to spend two or three weeks with her at Desmondstown.
Margot took a long time in writing her letter, but it was written at last. She would like to bring a girl, an English girl, back to Desmondstown; would The Desmond mind? The girl should never interfere with him, the darling, nor with that dear, dear Madam, but she could play with Norah and Bridget, and perhaps a little bit with Eileen. She was unhappy at home, and not very happy at school and would The Desmond greatly mind?
The Desmond did not mind at all. He said to Madam:
"Put the English miss as far away from me as possible. Hand her over to the care of our young daughters. For me, I await my grandchild. I think and dream of no one else."
"It shall be as you wish, Fergus," said Madam. "It is now the 1st of September. We shall have the little angel with us in less than a week."
"Ah, the good God be praised!" said The Desmond. "I look not ahead, I enjoy the present to the very, very utmost."
"Your little grandchild loves you," said Madam. "We will get her room neat and beautiful for her, and we will creep in, in the early morning, and see her asleep."
"Hand in hand," said The Desmond, looking at his old wife.
They looked at each other with a world of love in their eyes. That love had never been so strong as since the adorable grandchild had appeared on the scene. It had nearly killed them to part with her, but she was coming back again. Their night of weeping was turned into a morning of joy.
There was no doubt on this occasion with regard to the welcome prepared for little Margot St. Juste. She and her beloved Uncle John and the _Reparation_, as she called the uninteresting English girl, arrived at the station nearest to Desmondstown somewhat late at night.
Matilda was overcome with delight at the thought of her three weeks at Desmondstown. She begged and implored of Margot to call her Tilly.