Before she could add another word Ruth came in.

“Do come, Kathleen,” she said.  “He is much better after his sleep.  I told him you were here, and he would like to see you.”

“He has been bothered like anything about those accounts,” said Mrs. Craven.  “I can’t make out what has put it into his head.  Years ago it was an old story with him that something had gone wrong with the books; but, dear hearts! he had forgotten all about it for a weary long while.  Now within the last week he has been at it again, just as if ’twas yesterday.”

“He has an old account-book on the table now, granny,” said Ruth.

“Well,” said Mrs. Craven, “we must humor him.—­Don’t you take any notice, Miss O’Hara; don’t contradict him, I mean.”

Kathleen nodded.  There was a look on Ruth’s face which made her feel no longer interested in the Irish potatoes.  She slipped her hand inside her friend’s, and they went into the parlor.  Mr. Craven was seated by the fire.  His white locks fell about his shoulders; there was a faint touch of pink on each of his sallow cheeks, and his blue eyes were bright.

“Ah!” he said, raising his face when he saw Kathleen.  “And is this the little lady—­the dear little lady—–­ from over the seas, from the heart of Ireland itself?  I was once in Ireland.  I spent a month in Dublin, and I bought the very best paper for packing my sugars and teas in that I ever came across.  Ah!  I had a good time.  We used to sit in Phoenix Park.  I liked Ireland, and I could welcome any Irish maiden.—­Give me your hand, missy; I am proud to see you.”

Kathleen gave her hand.  She came up close to the old man and said: 

“Do you know, you have a look of my own old grandfather.  He is dead and in his grave; but he had white, white hair like yours.  Do you mind if I put my hand on your hair and stroke it just because of grandfather?”

“Ah, my dear, you may do what you like,” said the old man.  “And you have been good to my little lass—­my little woman here.  She has told me you have been good to her.”

“She has been very good to me.  I am glad to see you, Mr. Craven.  I hope when you get strong again you will come over and stay with father and mother and me at Carrigrohane Castle.”

“No, no, my love.  There was a time when I’d have liked it well, but not now.  You see, dear—­” his voice faltered and his eyes grew anxious—­“I must mind the shop.  When a man doesn’t attend to his own business, accounts go wrong.  Now there was quite a deficiency last week—­the wrong side of the ledger.  It was really terrible.  I think of it at night, and when I wake first thing in the morning I remember it.  I must get to my accounts, little miss, but I am right glad to see you.”

Kathleen felt a lump in her throat.  Ruth, with her bright eyes fixed on her grandfather, stood close by.