The O'Keefe straightened, squared his shoulders, gazed straight into
the flame-flickering eyes.

"We stick!" he said briefly.

Shamefacedly I recall now that at the time I thought this
colloquialism not only irreverent, but in somewhat bad taste. I am
glad to say I was alone in that bit of weakness. The face that Lakla
turned to Larry was radiant with love, and although the shamed hope
had vanished from the sweet eyes, they were shining with adoring
pride. And the marble visages of the Three softened, and the little
flames died down.

"Wait," said Lakla, "there is one other thing they say we must answer
before they will hold us to that promise--wait--"

She listened, and then her face grew white--white as those of the
Three themselves; the glorious eyes widened, stark terror filling
them; the whole lithe body of her shook like a reed in the wind.

"Not that!" she cried out to the Three. "Oh, not that! Not
Larry--let me go even as you will--but not him!" She threw up frantic
hands to the woman-being of the Trinity. "Let _me_ bear it alone," she
wailed. "Alone--mother! Mother!"

The Three bent their heads toward her, their faces pitiful, and from
the eyes of the woman One rolled--tears! Larry leaped to Lakla's side.

_"Mavourneen!"_ he cried. "Sweetheart, what have they said to you?"