“Even without carpets and chairs and tables?” said Mr. Hartrick.
“We don't care about carpets and chairs and tables,” said Nora. “We want to keep O'Shanaghgan, the place where father was born and I was born.”
“Well, look here, Nora. I can make you no promises just now; but I respect you, my dear, and I will certainly do something—what I cannot possibly tell you, for I must look into this matter for myself. But I will do this: I will go to O'Shanaghgan this week and see my sister, and find out from the Squire what really is wrong.”
“You will?” said Nora. She thought quickly. Her father would hate it; but, after all, it was the only chance. Even she had sufficient common sense to know that Mr. Hartrick could not help unless he went to the old place.
“Oh, you will do it when you see it,” she said, with sudden rapture. “And you'll take me home with you?”
“Well, I think not, Nora. Now that you are here you must stay. I am fond of you, my little girl, although I know very little about you; but I do think that you have very mistaken ideas. I want you to love your English cousins for your mother's sake, and to love their home for your mother's sake also; and I should like you to have a few lessons, and to take some hints from your Aunt Grace, for you are wild, and need training. If I go to O'Shanaghgan for you, will you stay at The Laurels for me?”
“I will do anything, anything for you, if you save father,” said Nora. She fell on her knees before her uncle could prevent her, took his hand, and kissed it.
“Then it is a compact,” said Mr. Hartrick; “but remember I only promise to go. I cannot make any promises to help your father until I have seen him.”