“I don’t know what my mother will say, and Barky, when I tell them,” said Ulick, after a pause.
“That is immaterial, Ulick. I wish you would come over to Queenstown with me to-morrow, and meet Tom; he would be real glad to know you.”
Ulick shook his head.
“Thank you, Aunt Nora, but I could not get away now. I’ve ever so many young hunters on hand. Duffy is sick.”
“Why, it sounds like old times to hear his name! Do you know that we once had a boy called Ulick; he was killed in a lift accident when he was eleven years of age, and now we have no one belonging to us whatever.”
“I’m awfully sorry for you, Aunt Nora, and for your disappointment here. I am not much good at talking, but——”
“But better at doing.”
“And I had better be going.”
“No, no; here is Mrs. Hogan with the tray. You will just stay and keep your aunt Nora company, and let us get to know one another a bit, my dear boy.”
So Ulick was persuaded, and he and his aunt made friends; he was so like her dear brother, not only in appearance, but ways, that she almost felt that it was she and the Ulick of her young days, once more tête-à-tête, and it was an easy matter to take his boy into her heart. The poor fellow, she knew, had a scanty allowance, and yet he had brought his little all, to his aunt’s old begging friend; she secretly resolved that that kindly meant loan, should be repaid by a great fortune. Mrs. Grogan drew the lad out about his regiment, his comrades, his plans, and tastes. She made him promise to write her long letters, to keep her well posted in his affairs, and ultimately to go over, and visit them. At ten o’clock she rose, and said—