"No, no; you know I never touch such a thing," said Maureen.
"Then whyiver have ye turned so white? Be the powers! ye can't luv herself?"
"I—I think perhaps—perhaps I do a little," said Maureen. "If she wouldn't call me 'charity child' I'd love her. Pegeen, darling, what does charity child mean?"
"Bless yer swate heart, it's what ye'll niver be. Why, there ain't a bhoy in Ireland that wouldn't stand up and say no to that!"
"Is it very awful?" asked Maureen.
"Don't ax no questions and ye'll be tolt no lies," was Pegeen's remark.
Maureen remained a minute or two longer in the kitchen, then she looked at the clock and went slowly up to her shabby bedroom.
"Charity child or not," thought the little girl, "I must try and save her. It's a long walk, but the day is early yet. I could quiet the poor O'Shee. I haven't forgotten what father told me. How well I remember his saying, 'Just a touch of your hand, Maureen, very firm and very coaxing, and you'll get any horse to follow you round the world.'" So the child in her little brown frock, which looked exceedingly shabby, and with a small old, worn-out brown hat to match, started on her walk to Rathclaren.
Nobody saw her go. The servants, taking advantage of both master and mistress being absent, were talking loudly in the big kitchen. The gardeners had joined the group. Pegeen was helping the company to porter and great chunks of kitchen cake, and they were all laughing and joking, praising Maureen, shaking their heads sorrowfully about the masther, and grinning with delight at the way they hoped The O'Shee would sarve herself.
Pegeen was a confirmed gossip, and told the story of what the child had just said to her.