"That doesn't come within my bailiewick," she said in her quiet
voice. "Her life is her own and not mine. Words are the wind that
blows." She stopped just a moment and began again. "We must leave
for Scotland by the earliest train."
"What'll he do?" the words escaped from the woman as if involuntarily.
She even drew a quick breath. "He's a strong feeling bairn--strong!"
"He'll be stronger when he is a young man, Nanny!" desperately.
"That is why I must act now. There is no half way. I don't want
to be hard. Oh, am I hard--am I hard?" she cried out low as if she
were pleading.
"No, ma'am. You are not. He's your own flesh and blood." Nanny had
never before seen her mistress as she saw her in the next curious
almost exaggerated moment.
Her hand flew to her side.
"He's my heart and my soul--" she said, "--he is the very entrails
of me! And it will hurt him so and I cannot explain to him because
he is too young to understand. He is only a little boy who must
go where he is taken. And he cannot help himself. It's--unfair!"
Nanny was prone to become more Scotch as she became moved. But
she still managed to look grim.
"He canna help himsel," she said, "an waur still, YOU canna."
There was a moment of stillness and then she said:
"I must go and pack up." And walked out of the room.
* * * * *
Donal always slept like a young roe in the bracken, and in deep
and rapturous ease he slept this night.
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