Dido looked back over her ears at her as a dog will, knowing itself
discussed.

"I don't think Dido would call it a kindness, Maureen," said I. "Let me
see--how old is she?"

"She must be nigh on fifteen years old. I remember well the day Master
Luke brought her home. I wonder his Lordship can bear to have her about,
seeing who it was that gave her to him."

"And who was it, Maureen?" I asked.

Her old eyes narrowed themselves cunningly.

"No one could ever say, Miss Bawn, that I talked about the family."

"Very well, Maureen," I said. "But I am to hear it, all the same. Miss
Champion is going to tell me. She said so to my grandmother yesterday,
and would have done it then only that she feared to disturb Gran. I am
going to her this afternoon to talk about our trip to Dublin, and then
she will tell me."

"That is the way," said Maureen, with great bitterness. "People will
tell you not to tell things: and when you've held yourself in till
you're fit to burst after all those years they'll tell themselves. Why
shouldn't you know, Miss Bawn, my lamb? There's some for Master Luke and
there's some against him, but I'm for him whatever story was the true
one."