"He loves him; he can't do more," said Margot.
"And you love him, don't you, Margot?"
"For your sake I'll begin to twist myself in that direction," said Margot. "Now hurry, auntie, hurry, or you'll miss your train."
A beautiful carriage had been provided. This had been secured out of the proceeds of a small cheque which la belle grand'mère had sent to Margot for the wedding; and the bride and bridegroom, when they went away, were not obliged to step into Phinias Maloney's trap.
"For all God's mercies, let's be thankful for that," said Aunt Norah.
But Margot, as she watched them go and helped to throw slippers and rice after them, felt that she herself would prefer the little trap.
"The house is well quit of them," whispered The Desmond; but Margot would not allow him to say these words aloud.
"It's her wedding day; it has come a bit late, but let her be happy in it, granddad."
"Right you are, my dove, my blossom;" and then they sat down—the old, old man, and the young child—to examine some flowers by the aid of a microscope.
All was indeed well in the heart of little Margot. She and her grandfather were in the midst of their game, and as a matter of fact, had forgotten Norah and her husband when Fergus came in.