Mrs. Faithful was silent; she absolutely blushed under that steadfast gaze.
"I will tell you why," said Maureen. "Uncle Pat told you everything, and you, wise woman that you are, knew perfectly well that you would require my help; that it was just possible for me to accomplish what you with all your knowledge might fail to attain. Please, I must go to Henrietta, and please, I am quite well now, and not at all tired, and I must accomplish my work before I rest."
"Well, child, I cannot refuse. I will ring for Dinah."
"Dinah? What a pretty name!"
"Yes, and she is good and strong—as good as her name. At present she is the sole caretaker of Henrietta Mostyn. I will just prepare you for the fact that she is a Quakeress."
"Oh, but I love them," said Maureen, her eyes shining.
"Here she comes then. Once she had the great privilege of helping to nurse your father. He had a sharp attack of fever at Felicity after the death of your dear young mother. Here she comes. Dinah, this is our Miss Maureen."
"Maureen O'Brien, I greet thee," said Dinah.
Dinah was an elderly woman. She wore the old-fashioned dress of her Order. She had a tight-fitting cap over her head, made of the softest, finest muslin. It was tied under her chin. Her eyes were like dove's eyes. She gave the instant impression of great peace.