"It's my Kathleen before she grew up," he whispered to himself, "before she met that Frenchman, drat him."
"Do you love me, grand-dad?" whispered Margot.
"Yes, push-keen, I think a bit."
"Will it be a good bit, soon, grand-dad?"
"I'm thinking it might."
Margot gave another sigh of intense and complete satisfaction.
"I wanted to see the house and the place and the young girls and the young boys and Madam, but I wanted most of all to see you, grand-dad."
"Ah, now, that's proper," said The Desmond. Just then there was a rustling outside the door, and Madam came in with a little tray, which contained milk and bread and butter and home-made jam and new-laid eggs.
Margot would not for a moment resign her post on The Desmond's knee, but she allowed Madam to draw a little table forward and to feed her from there. She ate with considerable appetite and looked prettier than ever when her fatigue vanished.