Donald next made "shake-downs", or heather beds, for both, and they slept as sound as babies.
Early astir they were, however, and after more porridge and milk Nugent thanked the shepherd—solidly, and away they went down the hill with poor Donald's blessing ringing in their ears.
It was a bright and beautiful morning, with ne'er a cloud in all the sky.
What a relief for poor Mrs. Nugent when they entered the bungalow! And innocent wee Matty must jump up into Creggan's arms and cry for joy.
CHAPTER VIII.
CREGGAN AND OSCAR.
"Boy, you've been crying," said the hermit one forenoon, as Creggan jumped on shore with Oscar from his little skiff.
He had been rowing more slowly to-day towards his little island home. Usually he made the skiff dance over the water, singing as he rowed, but his arms seemed to be lead this morning.
"Well, Daddy," said Creggan, with an apology for a smile, "I—I—I'm afraid that I did let a tear or two fall.
"I've been parting from the Nugents, you know, and Matty would hang about my neck and cry—and so I really couldn't help joining in for a moment. Oh, only for a moment, Daddy! But partings are such nasty things, aren't they?"