"And the Desmonds were mighty chiefs—great warriors?" continued Margot. "They feared nobody nor nothing. All the women were beautiful and all the men were brave. Now go on, Jacko, go on."
"The castle had a portcullis," said Uncle Jack, and then he burst into imaginary stories of the Desmonds, whom he hardly knew at all.
"You forget what you are talking about to-day," said Margot, taking up the thread. "As you enter by the front door you find yourself in a great hall, covered all over with armour—perfect suits of armour."
"Yes, of course I forget," said Uncle Jack, "and the hall goes up as high as the roof, and there is the ingle nook, where the fire is never let out day nor night."
"Never—never let out," muttered Margot. "Tell me about the men now, Uncle Jack."
"Oh, bless your heart, puss, they are fine fellows, those Desmonds—big and broad and with sparkling eyes."
"And the chief is called 'The Desmond'?" interrupted little Margot.
"Yes, that's true enough. It's a very fine title to be sure."
"And what sort are the ladies?" asked Margot.
"Bless you, child, something like yourself, only perhaps not quite so dark, but to hear 'em laugh and to hear 'em sing would make the water stand in your eyes, that it would—just for the joy of it; you understand, Margot."