"Ate your mate and stop talking horrors," said the cook. "I declare what wid this, and wid that, and Garry and the hoss coming back as they did, I feel sort o' creepy. I'm not going to lose my night's rest, me good man, so ye'd best drop the dismals, for they don't suit me complaint at all, at all."
It was while the servants were talking in this manner in the hall and Mrs. MacGill was wondering in what sort of manner she could tempt the Colonel's appetite, that the sound of wheels was heard outside. The next minute Garry gave a sort of screech, and Maureen said, "Mind this little horse, Garry. I want to see the Colonel."
"He is in his study, missie asthore. Heaven be praised to see your swate face. Oh, but it's I that am mighty glad."
Maureen held out her little hand, grasped Garry's for a moment, and then said in her old cheerful voice, "I must see Fly-away, by-and-by." The next moment she had burst into the Colonel's study without knocking.
She had dressed herself neatly and prettily. The shabby clothes in which she had gone away were discarded. The day was a hot one, and she was all in white with a little white hat trimmed with soft white ribbons. Nothing could be simpler than her dress—no face more charming than hers.
The Colonel gave a sort of gasp.
"Maureen," he said, "Maureen!"
She ran to him and flung her arms round his neck.
"Dear, dear Colonel, I've come back. Everything is all right. All things are beautiful in this beautiful world. Some day perhaps when I am fit to tell it, I will relate my story to my own Colonel, but for the present I would rather ask you to trust Maureen."
"My blessed child, I always trust you; but your letter gave me great pain."