For he had caught sight of a light waggon drawn up in front; there were horses and men about, and he felt that something important had taken place in his absence.
Ten minutes later he was grasping his father’s hands, and then those of the governor, who looked very pale and thin. Lastly those of Lady O’Hara, who held his tightly.
“Oh! just look at him,” she cried; “why, he’s brown as chestnuts and getting as big as a man. Sure, and what do ye water him with, Mrs Braydon, to make him grow like that?”
“Yes, he has grown,” said Nic’s mother, smiling with pride.
“Grown! why, he’s shot up like a palm tree. Nic, boy, we’ve come up with your father for me husband to get quite cured: will you have us for a bit?”
Nic’s eyes silently gave their answer as he clung to lady O’Hara’s hand, just as he did that day when she came to the Friary to fetch him from school, not so very long back; but so many events had happened since, that it seemed an age to the boy, who felt how different he was since then.
“You don’t deserve for us to come, Mrs Braydon,” said Lady O’Hara as they sat over their homely meal that evening, “for you never come to stay with me, nor the girls neither.”
“You see what a simple farmhouse life we lead,” said Mrs Braydon, smiling. “We are not fit for Government House.”
“Now just hark at her, John!” cried the lady. “Do we want her to come and see Government House? It’s to see us.”
“Mrs Braydon knows that,” said Sir John gravely, “and how deeply we are in her debt. Here we are, after robbing her of her natural protector all this time, come to trouble her more.”