Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📗

Then the fun and excitement downstairs became fast and furious. The Squire clapped his brother-in-law, George Hartrick, on the shoulder; the Squire laughed; the Squire very nearly hallooed. Terence looked round him in undisguised amazement.

“I would not have known the old place,” he said, turning to Nora.

Nora gave a quick sigh.

“Where is my mother?” said the lad then.

“She has gone upstairs with Aunt Grace; but run after her, Terry, do,” said his sister.

Terence gave another glance round, in which pride for the home where he was born kindled once more in his dark eyes. He then rushed up the stairs three steps at a time.

“Why, then,” said the Squire, “it's cramped and bothered I am in these clothes. What possesses people to make Merry-andrews of themselves night after night beats my comprehension. In my old velveteen jacket and knee-breeches I am a man—in this tomfoolery I do not feel as good as my own footman.”

“You look very well in your dinner dress all the same, O'Shanaghgan,” said Mr. Hartrick. And he added, glancing from Nora to her father, “I am glad to see you quite recovered.”

“Ah! it's she has done it,” said the Squire, drawing Nora forward and pressing her close to his heart. “She's a little witch. She has done fine things for me, and I am a happy man to-night. Yes, I will own to it now, I'm a happy man; and perhaps there are more things in the world than we Irish people know of. Since I have my barn to sleep in I can bear the house, and I am much obliged to you, George—much obliged to you. But, all the same, it's downright I'd have hated you, when you altered this old place past knowing, had it not been for my little girl, Light o' the Morning, as I call her.”