was smiling and very courtly; "but Dr
Braydon forgot that his son has been with me over five years, madam, and
he has grown bodily, and mentally, I hope."

"To be sure. Shake hands, Dominic. Why, you ought to be Irish, with a
name like that."

"Lady O'Hara!" cried Nic excitedly, as he grasped the hand extended to
him. "Do you know my father?"

"Oh, don't make jam of my fingers, boy, and I'll tell you," cried the
lady, with a pleasant grimace. "Ah, that's better. Yes, of course I
know him. He lives next door to us, about a hundred miles away."

The doctor chuckled, and Nic stared.

"Sit down, Braydon, sit down," said the doctor. "Ah! that's better,"
said the lady, in a fresh, cheery way. "Well, now, look at that,
doctor. Here am I, come at his father's wish to take care of him, and
he's big enough to take care of me."

"But--I beg your pardon," cried Nic--"you know my mother, madam?"

"To be sure I do, and the two girls; and here's a batch of letters I've
brought."

"Oh, tell me, please," cried Nic excitedly, taking the letters with
trembling hand,--"my mother and Janet and Hilda, what are they like?"

"Gently, gently," cried the lady; "where will I find breath to answer
your questions? Why, the poor boy's like an orphan, Dr Dunham, living
all these years away from home."

"Mrs Dunham and I try to make this my pupils' home," said the doctor,
with dignity.

"Yes, I know," said the lady, smiling a broad, pleasant smile, and
showing her fine white teeth; "but sure, doctor, there's no place like
home. It's very pleasant out yonder with Sir John, but I long for wild
old Galway, where I was born. Well, Dominic, and do you know what I've
come for?"

"You said something about taking care of me, madam," stammered Nic.

"Ah, and don't stammer and blush like a great gyurl, and don't call me
madam. I am a very old friend now of your dear mother, and I've come to
take you back with me over the salt say--I mean sea, doctor, but I
always called it say when I was a gyurl. I was in England a great deal
after I was married, but the fine old pronunciation clings to me still,
and I'm not ashamed."

"Why should you be, Lady O'Hara?" said the doctor in his most courtly
manner, as he rose. "There, you would like to have a quiet chat with
Dominic Braydon. I will leave you till lunch is ready."

"Oh, I don't know about lunch," said the lady, hesitating. "Yes, I do.
Dominic here will lunch with us, of course?"