Tilly was in floods of tears.
"I want Margot, I want la Comtesse," she exclaimed, "and I don't see any old-youngs. I only see the aged round me, the very aged. And I hate the place without la Comtesse."
"La, to be sure, there's no countess, here," said Norah, "and if we young things ain't young enough for you, why ye'd best be going. Ye can sleep in your bit of a bed to-night."
"Yes, and in the morning I'll drive ye back to the station and put ye in the thrain, so that ye can get to the place only fit for the likes of you, and that's England," said Malachi.
"I'd be ashamed to kick up a fluster in an Irish nobleman's house," said Bruce, "but you English have no manners, none at all."
Just then, Margot appeared on the scene.
"Ah," said Tilly, making a rush at her.
"I can't, Tilly, I can't, Reparation. I told you so when I invited you here. I told you that I had to spend all my time with my grand-dad. I'm ashamed of you, Till, that I am. You'd be frightened to death to sit in the room with himself. He'd let out a yell at you if you sat in the room with him and cried; you wouldn't do it twice, that I can tell you. What more can you want than what's provided? Here's Aunt Norah, she's beautiful and young; and here's Aunt Bride, she's hatched about every second day; and here's dear Aunt Eileen, and they're all as young as you, Till. As a matter of fact, their spirits are much, much younger. And Uncle Bruce and Uncle Malachi are so funny; they'll make you laugh all to fits. If you want to go home to-morrow, you can. I'm not wanting you, but you are not to screech in this house."
"Hello, here comes supper," said Bruce, as a huge joint of cold beef was brought in, accompanied by a great dish of pickles and an enormous platter of the very best potatoes, all bursting out of their skins and showing balls of flour within.
"Come and eat, Till, that's what you want," said Margot. "I must go back to grand-dad, but I'll come to you by-and-bye in your room."