"I know the Chief of Police here. Am I to have that, money, Cousin Ned, or—"
"Of course," he said hastily.
[CHAPTER XXVIII]
PLANNING THE FUTURE
It was nearly a month later when Mary Louise, walking down to the river on an afternoon, discovered Ingua sitting on the opposite bank and listlessly throwing pebbles into the stream. She ran across the stepping-stones and joined her little friend.
"How is your grandfather this morning?" she asked.
"I guess he's better," said Ingua. "He don't mumble so much about the Lost Cause or the poor men who died for it in Ireland, but Ma says his broken heart will never mend. He's awful changed, Mary Louise. To-day, when I set beside him, he put out his hand an' stroked my hair an' said: 'poor child—poor child, you've been neglected. After all,' says he, 'one's duties begin at home.' He hasn't had any fits of the devils lately, either. Seems like he's all broke up, you know."
"Can he walk yet?" inquired Mary Louise.
"Yes, he's gett'n' stronger ev'ry day. This mornin' he walked to the bridge an' back, but he was ruther wobbly on his legs. Ma said she wouldn't have left him, just now, if she wasn't sure he'd pick up."
"Oh. Has your mother gone away, then?"
"Left last night," said Ingua, "for Washington."