"I don't know what you can do, but you must just act as you please," said Margot in a very sad voice. "I did want to make you happy, I did most truly, but what was I to do? You wouldn't be happy, try as I would. You can't ride like a Desmond; it isn't in you."
"Little shopkeeper, don't talk any more," said Tilly, and she dashed out of sight, crying as she went.
How it so happened that while Matilda Raynes was planning out her revenge with a certain amount of skill, little Margot had taken off her habit and was seated in her favourite place on her grandfather's knee. He told her a little about the troublesome girl, and Margot begged of him not to mind, for it was only her way and she was soon going.
"Thank the Lord for that," said The Desmond. "I'd have let her stay, but you put your own big foot down, pushkeen."
"Oh, yes, grand-dad, it is time she went home. I'm sorry for her, rather, but she's not—not very nice, I mean."
"She's not nice at all," said The Desmond. "She's a common little brat. What sort of school was that they sent you to, light of my eyes? How did you come by her sort entirely?"
"I couldn't help it, grand-dad; she was at the school. Shall I tell you about my ride on Starlight?"
"Yes, do, to be sure. It's real pretty, to hear your sweet voice."
So Margot talked and the old man asked questions. He asked innumerable questions and Margot showed that she was a true Desmond by her replies. Meanwhile Tilly, her heart set on revenge, was creeping nearer and nearer to the stables and the beautiful new loose box which had all been arranged for the comfort of Starlight. There, in a certain corner hung the new saddle, which had just arrived from Cork.
Malachi was having a gentle snooze in a corner of the stall, but he was fond of calling himself a cat who invariably slept with one eye open. Tilly had not the least idea that he was there, but he saw her all the time. She thought herself quite alone with the exception of Starlight and the new saddle. She did not guess even for a moment that Malachi had opened that one eye of his very wide; in fact, that he had opened both eyes. Tilly produced out of her pocket a pincushion, which contained pins of different sorts and degrees. These she cleverly inserted in the lining of the new saddle.