Maureen, who tried her best to love everyone, did her utmost to love her aunt. She thought that if once she could get possession of that queer, wild, fierce heart, she might be able to help dear Uncle Pat, but her efforts were unavailing. Still the child struggled on bravely, as such children will. There are not many of them in the world; the few there are, are little angels of light and messengers of peace; but Maureen never thought of herself in any sense of the word whatsoever. She was exceedingly anxious now about Uncle Pat; but what was she to do about step-auntie. When in India she had learned the art of riding perfectly. She could ride almost any buck-jumping pony in the station, and she was the admiration of her father's regiment. She kept her seat by a sort of miracle, and was adored and petted by all the ladies and the gentlemen alike.
Since she had arrived at Templemore there was no horse for her to ride. She missed this indulgence for a short time, but then she forgot it in the real cares of life.
On this special day when step-auntie had gone to Rathclaren, and Uncle Pat and Dominic were in Kingsala, the little girl felt remarkably uncomfortable. There was great quiet in the house, for Denis and Kitty were both at school, and Pegeen was in the best of humours, with "Herself" away, and little missie, the darlin', keeping her company.
"Well, to be sure," said the old cook, when everything was prepared for dinner. "I hope to the Lord the Colonel will keep herself until we has had our male in paice and quiet. The likes of her was niver seen to my way of thinking."
"Oh, please don't talk against her—please," said Maureen in her gentle voice.
"And whyever not, to be sure, at all, at all? Why, if there's a nasty, mane hag of a made-up woman in this wide, wide wurrld, it's herself. It's breaking the masther's heart she be, and as to her cruelty to yez, my purty wan, don't we all of us remark on it, and don't we just rage about it? Oh, me fine lady indade!"
"Pegeen, please, Pegeen," said Maureen, "I want to ask you a question so badly. You know step-auntie has gone away with Jacobs on Farmer Barrett's very tall dogcart with The O'Shee between the shafts."
"Sakes alive!" cried Pegeen; "that nasty, ill-timpered, half-broken-in colt? Herself must be mad—that's all I can say! Why, the farmer was talking a week past that iver was; and he said he couldn't make annytking o' the O'Shee, the little baste was so nasty in his timper. Well, to be sure, she'll break her neck, as sure as I'm here."
"Who'll break her neck," said Maureen, whose face turned like a white sheet. "Is it the horse or step-auntie—or—or Jacobs?"
"Lord love ye, child, maybe it'll be the whole three ov 'em—I can't say, I'm sure. Miss Maureen, set ye down this blessed minit, and I'll git ye a drop of potheen."