"Well, to be sure, I can do that fine," said Phinias. "Didn't he give me his kyard when he put the bit colleen into my care, and didn't he look nigh to weepin'. He's an elegant man, yer honour, and he loves the little colleen like anythin'. There's nothin' on earth he wouldn't do for the pretty dear, but I can see that he's mortal afraid of 'herself'--that's Miss Priscilla that was. His address is Handley Vicarage, Balderstown, near Earlminster. You won't see much of the old farmer in the Rev. John Mansfield, yer honour. To look at, he's a gintleman as good as yourself and with 'the spiritual eye.'"
"Ah, thin," exclaimed Phinias, "it's given but to a rare few, and they lives--well, somewhere above the stars I'm thinking--close to the golden gates, by the same token. There's no difference between 'The's' and Priests and Marquises and Counts where _he_ has fixed his gaze, yer honour. He's a howly man, that's what he be and 'the spiritual eye' in him is downright wonderful."
"Well, thank ye, Phinias," said Fergus, after a pause. "I don't quite understand your full meaning, but I want the wee push-keen for my father, and if I can get her I will. How, then, will you call her out to me, for she may as well ride home on my shoulder?"
"Ah to be sure, the pretty bit dear," said the farmer.
He entered his untidy kitchen somewhat sorrowfully. He was thinking of John Mansfield. He did not see--being a very upright man himself--why even The Desmond should be considered, when he had taken no notice at all of the little 'herself' all these long, long years, and he thought his honour, Mr. Fergus, somewhat cruel to drag the child from his own friend.
Fergus, however, having got the information he required did not give Phinias Maloney a further thought.
Margot, in the highest spirits, rode back to Desmondstown on her uncle's shoulder. She had by this time become great friends with Aunt Eileen and she endured the passionate caresses of old young Aunt Norah and old young Aunt Bridget. She chattered a good deal as they all ate their lunch together about the baby who was real--real young.
Aunt Norah let out one of her whoops and then one of her screeches, but The Desmond was too much absorbed with his plan to take much notice of her. On that same evening Fergus started for Rosslare _en route_ for Fishguard. He managed to find time to sell the old gold repeater and had in consequence sufficient money in his pocket for his immediate wants.