"You must wear it to-day, push-keen," she said, "as a welcome to old Ireland. Isn't it the country of the green, Madam?"
"Yes, to be sure," replied the old grandmother, "and you might go out and pick a bunch of shamrocks and fasten it in the front of her dress, Norah."
Norah gambolled like a veritable kitten downstairs. She returned presently with a great bunch of shamrocks, which was carefully pinned into Margot's white frock.
"Are ye rested now, pretty dear?" asked Norah.
"Yes, to be sure I am, Aunt Norah, and I feel so—so fat."
"Poor lamb," cried Madam, "she hasn't been half fed where she was."
"Yes, but I have," cried Margot. "Uncle Jacko fed me fine and so did Hannah. It was a wicked woman who interfered."
"A wicked woman, lawk a mercy!" cried Bridget. "What in the world had a wicked woman to do with you, pixie?"
"I'm not allowed to mention her name," said little Margot. "Don't ask me any more questions, for I've taken an oath and I won't break it. I'd like to go straight to grand-dad—that's what I'd like."
"You can't just now, pretty dear," said Madam, "he always sleeps at this hour, but he'll be up and about by mid-day dinner."