“Then let’s go back, John,” said Lady O’Hara dilly; “sure we’re not welcome. We’re too foine for her.”
“Lady O’Hara!” cried Mrs Braydon indignantly.
“That’s brought her to her senses,” said the visitor, rising and going to Mrs Braydon to kiss her affectionately. “Don’t you know that you’re all the dearest and best friends we’ve got in the world? Hasn’t the doctor been sitting up with John night after night, and saved his life?”
“Oh, nonsense! nonsense!” said the doctor quickly.
“It’s quite true, Mrs Braydon,” said the governor warmly; “and God bless him for it!”
“There!” cried Lady O’Hara, “now let’s all be comfortable. Why, it’s like being at home, at the old place from which John fetched me when he was only Lieutenant O’Hara, and hadn’t a grand handle to his name. Gyurls, I’m going to enjoy myself with you while the governor gets strong and well. Sure I can make butter as well as either of you. Didn’t we have two Kerry cows at home? As for bread, there I’ll bate—beat I mean—either of you. Nic, boy, you’ll take me round with you when you go to see to the stock; only I must have a quiet ould mare—none of your great tatthering savage craytures that want to go like the wind. I’ve brought my strong riding habit. And you gyurls, you’ll ride too?”
“Of course,” cried Janet eagerly.
“Then we’re going to have quite a happy time; and John’ll get quite strong, won’t he, doctor?”
“Yes, he’ll be a new man in a month.”
“What!” cried the lady, with an assumed look of alarm: “John, darlin’, order the waggon and horses out. Ring for the men. We’ll go back home directly, and try the new doctor that’s just come out.”