"He's a bit old, father, but there's good blood in him still. You sit easy by the fire with little Madam, and I'll take pushkeen for her first ride on Starlight alone—we can talk about your riding the King of the Desmonds later."
The habit was a very pretty one of dark blue cloth, and there was a little soft crimson cap with a long tassel for the pushkeen to put over her jet-black hair. Nothing could be more altogether becoming, and the child's total absence of fear communicated itself to the high-spirited horse, who led her bravely up hill and down dale, Malachi riding beside her on Brian the Brave.
Oh, never was there anything quite so delightful as that ride to the little pushkeen, and little, little did she suspect that her happy days at Desmondstown were coming so quickly to an end. She could dance by nature and she could ride by nature. What Desmond had ever funked a horse? And this child surely was a true Desmond, a chip of the old block.
Never was there anything quite so delightful as that
ride.—[Page 207.]
The old-youngs and Mr. Flannigan were enjoying themselves at special games on the back lawn when little Margot flashed by in her new dark blue habit with her crimson cap and tassel. She came up quite close to the gate, but pulled in Starlight at a word from Malachi, and then the two horses and the man and the girl disappeared up the highroad.
"Isn't she a purty little thing?" said Flannigan.
Tilly felt a sense of madness coming over her. Now was her opportunity—now—now or never. She slipped away from the old-youngs and softly unhasping the door of The Desmond's sanctum entered and stood before him, her hands folded, her heart beating fast.