However, though old Trimleston House stood in a lonely part of Ireland, between the hills and the sea, yet Madam was not so desolate as might have been supposed, for she was beloved by all the "neighbours" for twenty miles around, and poor and rich made their sympathy felt by her.

And everyone was glad when her favourite son in Africa sent home his two children to her care; no one so glad as the dear old granny herself, unless it might be Nurse Nancy.
To tell how the grandmother and nurse, whose hands had once been so full and were now so long empty, went into the deserted nurseries and furbished them up till everything looked as good as new would require a chapter to itself.

A handy man was sent for to come two miles and paint up the old rocking-horse which had been standing for years with its nose in a corner of a closet and its sides all blistered with damp; and nine-pins, tops, and marbles were hunted out of drawers and cupboards.
"Mercy me! Look here, madam! If this isn't the dog that Misther Jack broke the ear off knockin' its head against the wall one day and him in a passion!" said Nurse Nancy.
She was afraid to bring forth the dolls, with their associations, but the mother herself went to look for them.
"We are getting a little girl, Nancy," she said, "and we can't have nothing but boys' toys for her to play with." Nancy nodded her head, but Madam went boldly to the drawer, looked at the dolls with their faded cheeks and glassy eyes, shook out their gay frocks, and laid them back in their place.

Nancy said nothing, but when Madam remarked that evening: "I am writing for one or two new ones.

They will be fresher.