“Home!” cried Nic piteously. “Oh, Lady O’Hara, it hasn’t been like home. I haven’t been happy here.”
“Sure, I know, boy, and it was only my fun,” said Lady O’Hara, laying her hand upon the lad’s head: “as if a boy could be quite happy away from all who love him, and whom, in spite of his thoughtless way; he loves! Then you shall come and live with me at the hotel, and help me do all my shopping and commissions, beside getting your outfit and the things you’re to take out for your father. Come, Dominic, is it a bargain?”
“Do—do you really wish it?”
“Why, of course, boy, or I wouldn’t ask you. Ah, here’s the doctor and his lady. Sure, madam, I’m glad to make your acquaintance,” said Lady O’Hara, with grave dignity. “Dominic Braydon and I have been arranging matters, and I should be obliged by your having his boxes seen to and sent off to-morrow.”
“To-morrow?” said the doctor.
“Yes,” said the visitor, in a quiet, decisive tone; “and as for your pupil—your late pupil—I shall take him away with me directly after lunch.”
Both the doctor and his lady began to make excuses about the impossibility of Braydon being ready at so short a notice; and Lady O’Hara turned to the boy.
“Do you hear that, Dominic? You can’t be ready in the time. What do you say?”
“I can,” replied Nic.
“Of course you can, boy. There, doctor, I’ve come to take him, so now let’s have lunch.”