retted-lookin' an' the little lad wid the scare in his
eyes."

"Has the woman come back?"

"Wasn't that what I was tellin' your Ladyship? Lasteways, she didn't
come back exactly. I found her on the road an' she not knowin' where
to turn to, in a strange country. There they were, when I found them,
hugging aich other an' cryin'. And the cans beside them in the ditch."

"What cans?"

"Wasn't I tellin' your Ladyship--the pots and pans and the few little
bright cans among them, and not a penny betune the two poor souls, nor
they knowing where to turn to!"

"Where are they now?" Lady O'Gara asked quietly.

"They're in my house, your Ladyship. I brought them back there last
night an' I gev it up to them. I slep' in the loft over the stables
myself."

"Oh, but, Patsy, they can't stay in your house! The people would talk."

"Sure I know they'd talk--if it was an angel in Heaven. That's why I
kem to your Ladyship."

"I'll come and see the woman, Patsy, and we'll decide what is best to
be done."

Patsy's face cleared amazingly.

"I knew you'd come," he said. "It'll be all right when your Ladyship
sees them, God help them."

CHAPTER V

THE HAVEN

Lady O'Gara came in by way of a little-used gate a few days later. She
had been to Inch, where the house was being turned out of doors and
everything aired and swept and dusted and repolished, for a home-coming
so long delayed that people had forgotten to look for it. Castle
Talbot had six entrance gates, each with its lodge: and this one was
rarely used.

Susan--as Mrs. Baker preferred to be called, Susan Horridge: she seemed
to wish to drop the "Mrs. Baker"--came out with a key to open the gate,
which was padlocked.

Such a different Susan! The old Susan might have been dropped with
"Mrs. Baker." She had been just ten days at the South lodge, and now,
in her neat print dress, her silken hair braided tidily, her small face
filling out, she looked as she dropped a curtsey just as might the
Susan Horridge of a score years earlier.

"You keep the gate padlocked, Susan?" Lady O'Gara asked, with a little
surprise. "This is a quiet, honest place. I hardly think you need
fear any disagreeable visitors."

"Oh, but, m'lady, you never know." Susan had admitted her by this
time. "A lone woman and a little boy, and him that nervous through
being frightened!" She hurried on as though she did not wish to make
any reference to the cause of Georgie's fri