Madam smiled, nodded and kissed her hand.
"Yes, darling, I'm quite old; thank the Almighty."
"Then I'm real, real glad," said Margot. "It is so difficult to understand old young people or young old people, I don't know which to call 'em."
"Listen to me, Margot," said her grandmother. "Your aunts, Eileen, Norah, and Bridget, are young maids in their first dawn, and so for that matter are Fergus and Bruce and Malachi also young as young can be."
"Ah, but I'm sorry," said little Margot. "I suppose it is all right. I can't stay very long, grand-dad, darling, because I have faithful and true to get back to Uncle Jack, for Uncle Jack is both my uncle and my playfellow, but while I am here I would like most of the time to be with you and Madam, 'cause I don't like old-young girls."
"Come, let that be," said Madam. "The girls are only amusing themselves, to be sure they are."
Margot was quite silent for a minute.
Jacko was a big man, but he was not nearly so big as The Desmond, and she felt exceedingly comfortable nestling up in his arms, while his snow-white beard gently touched her little brown face.
"There's a trunk of mine," she said. "It is under a laurel bush by the gate. Could one of the servants go and fetch it down, grandfather?"
"Servants, bedad," exclaimed Malachi, who just then entered the room. "Oh, yes, I'll see about the servants. I'll put everything as right as rain."