"I don't wish it," said Fergus. "I, too, have my pride. Some day, I hope a far distant day, she will be the niece of The Desmond. Understand, I choose not to have a shopkeeper as a niece."
"Ah, but that matters so very, very little," said Uncle Jacko.
Fergus gave him a queer smile of non-comprehension.
"I have made up my mind and I go with you," he said after a long pause, and thus it was arranged.
Early the next morning the pushkeen appeared in her grandfather's room, where he was seated in his high grandfather's chair by a huge fire of turf.
"See, see, grand-dad!" said Margot. "See, behold, listen!" She looked wildly excited and wildly pleased. She was keeping back the sorrow that was breaking her very heart.
"See, my own, own, own grandfather," she said, seizing his fingers. "First, finger one; next, finger two; third, finger three—I go away for three of these fingers. I come back at the end of that time to my own darlingest grand-dad. I go at once, at once! Oh, grand-dad, kiss me, love me, love me! Oh, grand-dad, I love you too much to cry. Kiss me, my best of all grand-dads, kiss me at once."
The poor astonished Desmond took the child of his heart into his strong arms. He pressed her close to his heart, he solemnly counted out the months.
"You will come back," he said.
"I will come back, my own, own grand-dad."