CHAPTER VIII"What d'you think I'm let in for, Nell O'Brien?""I don't know. I haven't a guess in me. Aunt Kezia has squashed me flat. I've low instincts, Denis,—think of that! And no sense of what is befitting a young lady, and all sorts of other things. Oh, I'm a bad character entirely!"He flung down his hat."Think I didn't know all that already? What made our respected aunt discover it?""I'm sick of having no models!" she burst out passionately. "I haven't touched a horse for weeks! I—I'm just aching for the mere feel of them! A cat! Beyond Kate Kearney I'm offered a cat! It's like offering a starving man a piece of sugar-stick! Denis, try to draw a cat! A heap of stupid, meaningless fur! No muscles—no veins—oh, a horse is so glorious to paint!" She broke off with a quick little laugh. "Twin Nell 'pletely sorry," she said, using an old baby formula. "Tell me what you're let in for?""Not till you tell me what you've been up to.""Oh, it was nothing. I saw a hansom waiting outside the corner house. Ripping little chestnut, Denis," her whole-face kindled irresistibly; "the driver told me she was almost a thoroughbred. When a car passed along the top of the road, she played-up beautifully. Oh, the drawing in her! Well, I saw her from a window and seized up my sketch-book and bolted up the road. Now, is there any harm in that? I asked the driver how long he thought he'd be, and he smiled and said his fare was a solicitor who'd come to a client's house on business. 'They charge for their time, miss!' he said meaningly, so I rejoiced and started sketching her in. And he was such a nice man, too. He'd actually been to the Dublin horse show a few years ago. We had an argument about our horses. And he made her put her head as I wanted, and he told me how he'd come across her, and then—oh, I'd left the hall door open, of course, and Aunt Kezia—oh, Denis, you'd think I'd committed something much worse than a murder!""Show me the sketch.""I did one of her—and then several bits—quite rough. I'm going to paint her into that picture I was doing.""It's splendid, Nell. What a cute little beast!""Now tell me what you've been let in for?""A speech! A lecture! Old Yovil has let us all in for it. You can't say no to him somehow—he sort of works you up. Lancaster's swearing like the wind round the Craffrone tower. He says he must have been out of his mind to say he'd do it, but he can't go back now. It's to be on the third. Choose any subject you like—write it up—no notes, though—and spout forth in his drawing-room to a long-suffering audience. There're six of us going in for it, and a ripping edition of all the immortal Billy's plays for the winner.""Which will be you," annotated Nell with conviction."Not it! There's one chap—Morley—poetical sort of ass, who wears his hair too long—he'll beat me in a canter, my dear, not to mention the others.""I'll come and hear you, won't I, Denis?""Wish you could! But there won't be any ladies. Only us and Yovil, you know."After luncheon a maid came to ask if the Atom might go and have tea with Stewart. Sheila Pat, her Pearl clasped beneath one arm, and a spelling-book beneath the other, interviewed her in the hall."I'm not comin', thank you, Mary."The maid hesitated. "If you could, miss—""I have reasons of my own for not comin', Mary.""Very well, miss, only—he's such a dear little boy, and you'd brighten him up like."Sheila Pat looked worried."Does he want me to come?""Yes, miss.""Then I will!" She heaved a big sigh. "Unless," brightening, "Aunt Kezia doesn't wish me to. I'll go and ask her."She came back sadly."I can come," she said ungraciously."Sarah! Sarah!"Down the stairs floated Miss Kezia's voice, stern anger in its tone."Yes, ma'am.""Sarah, I cannot find my house-shoes! I have forbidden you to move any of my things.""I—I haven't touched 'em, ma'am!""She's getting trembly—like an earthquake, poor little hap'orth," observed Nell."Not touched them? Then where are they? They have disappeared! Are you sure—""Nell—oh,Nell, I—I put them on the dining-room fender to warm!""Molly! Oh, you are too lovely for anything! Hadn't you better go and tell her?"Molly cowered down in her chair."I daren't!""I will, then."She turned to the door, but Molly jumped up. "No, I'll go!"She came tearing back presently and flung herself down into a chair."Well?"But Molly buried her head in the chair-back and said nothing."Molly," Nell grasped her shoulder, "was she awful?""Y-yes, she was!" sobbed Molly. "Oh, I did want to soften her—and—and—oh, Nell," her voice suddenly shook with watery laughter, "K.K. had been at her shoes and—had eaten all the linings!""Oh, howdelightful!""It's awfully funny, but—oh, she's in a frightful temper! She—she says I'm an interfering—busybody! And when she wants coddling—she'll—she'll have a nurse in to do it for her—properly! She—shut K.K. in the boot closet! She made Sarah clear it out first. Can't you hear her howling? Oh, Nell, why did I go and forget all about her shoes? I meant to take them to her directly she came in—all nice and warm—""She might be warm, but she wouldn't be nice, Mol.""Don't be silly! You know what I meant. Of course, it's all very funny to you—""My dear Molly, you must confess it is rather funny!"Molly began to shake with laughter. "Oh, Nell, and K.K. looked so beautifully meek and innocent and the linings only little bits of leather left sticking out—and they'resuchbig, flat shoes! And K.K.'s toe-scratches all over them. Oh, and Nell—" Molly couldn't go on for a while—"while she—was talking—so awfully majestic and angry—oh,Nell!—K.K. seized a shoe out of her hand and fled with it, shaking it—you know how she does! Oh, I'm glad you weren't there!"After a while Nell went upstairs. She listened outside the boot closet; all was still. A good deal surprised, she went into her room. Sheila Pat, in her petticoat, sat huddled up on a chair, scissors in hand, bending over the frock she had just taken off."What are you doing, Atom?"She lifted a worried face."I'm just lengthing it," she said curtly."Oh, Kate Kearney, how did you get out of the boot cupboard?""I let her out," calmly. "I tried all the keys on the doors, and," triumphantly, "Sarah's fitted it!""Sheila Pat, I'm ashamed of you. My dear child, you're not unpicking the stitches at all—you're merely cutting little snips in the stuff. And, anyway, you're not to do it.""I like this dress, but it's rikkleously short. I don't think it'sperliteto wear them so short, Nell.""Well, you'll have to be impolite then. Come along into the Stronghold, sweetheart. You're frozen.""I did want to wear it to go and see that boy! Nell, wouldn'tyoujust let down the hem?""No, Atom, I won't. I hate long frocks for short atoms."Presently, uneasily, "Do you hate me for being so hard, Sheila Pat?""The O'Briens," excessively grown-upedly, "don't hate each other so easily, Nell."When the Atom came back after tea she was very quiet. Nell wondered if she were tired; she answered all questions as to her afternoon's enjoyment in her soft little voice that gave her curt sentences such a quaintness, but she originated no remark of her own. An hour after she had gone to bed Nell went into her room and peeped at her. She lay wide-eyed, thoughtful. A little after that she appeared suddenly in her night-gown at the door of the Stronghold."Hulloa, Atom!" Denis seized her and swung her up; her arms went round his neck."Denis," the strenuous little voice sounded as if it were near breaking, "I must go next door, please.""Now?""Yes.""But you're in your nightie, old girl! What do you want to go for?""It's a private reason." Her arms clung tighter; she pressed her cheek against his. Nell met the great eyes looking over his shoulder, and went up to her gently."Can't you wait till to-morrow, Atom?""Why, you'll have to," put in Molly. "If it's Stewart you want, he'll be in bed.""I must go now, Denis; please take me now.""We can wrap her up," said soft-hearted Denis.The arms round his neck gave a little spasmodic squeeze."Thank y-you," said the Atom.Laughing, he wrapped her in a great coat of his and a blanket, and carried her down the steps and in next door.Mrs. Barclay was a good deal surprised to see them. Denis put the Atom down, and she stood shivering, her small white face peering with a queer intensity from out the blanket."Stewart, my dear? Well, I am afraid he is in bed—""Please may I go up to him?""Very well; come along.""Please may I go by myalone?""Oh! Yes, dear, if you like.""Thank you."She turned and went up the stairs to the room Stewart had shown her that afternoon. She knocked politely at the door, then went in. The gas was burning dimly."You? Is it a fire next door?" He sat up in bed with joyful anticipation on his face."No. I—I want to speak to you.""Is the Pearl ill?""No." She climbed on to his bed and sat silent."Hurry up!""I—you see, I think I have been very unjust. I am sorry. I—when you said you would rather learn your Catchykism than play cricket, was it because of your leg?""Oh, don't bother! I want to go to sleep!""Please tell me!" the tone was not pleading, but authoritative."Yes, then!""I—I'm very sorry," quavered Sheila Pat. "I'm not mostly so nasty," she added extenuatingly. "I didn't think of that."Stewart was hugging his knees up under his chin."You see, I kept thinking you must be a goody-goo because of that.""You see," he said haltingly, "I—can't run quickly—or field—""No."There was a pause."Do you think," came the quavering little voice, "you will ever be able to like me?""Rather!""Do you like me now?""Course!""You may kiss me just once—round by that ear—if you like," said Sheila Pat."I'll kiss you twice if I like!" giving her two hearty smacks."Oh!" said Sheila Pat. Suddenly she perked up. "I shall call you Tommy," she said. "Stewart is like a book.""All right.""You see," her tone was rather uncomfortable, "I did mean—I had quite dessided—you see, I thought I had been very nasty, and I thought you would be very cross, and I did mean to give you—my Pearl—for a whole week—but I don't want to now.""I wouldn't take her. Peter'd be awful jealous, you bet!""So he would," joyfully. "Oh, Tommy, do let's have a pillow fight!"So it was that the listeners downstairs, with the memory of the small tragic figure that had left them still vividly in their minds, were startled by a sudden uproar of cries and bumps and laughter. Denis, up the stairs in a moment, and joining in the fray in another moment, found a wild Sheila Pat, shining-eyed, squealing with excitement, pelting Stewart with a pillow. He was not surprised, but Mrs. Barclay felt somewhat bewildered.CHAPTER IXSheila Pat came thoughtfully into the room. "Nell," she observed, "we give Sarah a lot of extra work."Nell looked up with an absent eye. She was trying to calculate how much they would be able to spend on toys for their Dublin hospital this year. They were determined not to omit their contribution to the annual Christmas tree and festivities."We make our own beds," said Molly, virtuously."But she has to clean out this room to-day; it's cleanin' day. And she's goin' home this evenin' to see her mother, and she walks all the way there and back with her young man. You see, if she didn't, she'd never be walkin' out with him at all. And she tidies up at home, because her mother's mostly ailin', and she bathes every one of her brothers and sisters. There now, Nell O'Brien!"Nell flung aside paper and pencil."Come on, Atom, we'll turn this room out ourselves!""I'll go and tell Sarah." The Atom trotted contentedly from the room. "Aunt Kezia's out!" she called back."How on earth do you begin?" asked Molly, looking helplessly around."Oh, you put everything out in the passage first of all," said Nell, confidently, "then you tie your head up in a duster or something, because of the dust, you know, and then you begin to sweep and fill the room with dust. Oh, and the big things you cover over with dusting sheets. I'll get all the things we'll want from Sarah. You go and tie up your head.""Oh, miss!" Sarah was in a state of horror bordering on lunacy. "You young ladies to do my work!"But Nell got her way in the end.The Atom helped in a silence that was ecstatic. She pinned up her pig-tail, and tied a clean duster round her head. Molly followed suit, and then the supply being exhausted, Nell twisted a pale blue silk scarf round hers, and they set to work. They brushed and brushed; silence reigned in the Stronghold. Sheila Pat broke it to observe in a rather breathless but deeply content voice, "We're gettin' a fine dust now!"Denis came in with a rush. "Hulloa! I say, old man," he called over his shoulder, "rather a choking atmosphere!"Nell's greeting froze on her lips. Her laughing glance met a pair of well-remembered grey eyes looking straight at her over Denis's shoulder. She stood quite still; the hot colour dyed her face red."I'll go—really, O'Brien, I'd rather—another time!"The uncomfortable murmur reached her ear; she forgot all about her unfortunate visit—all about her sense of antagonism. She went swiftly forward, hand outstretched, smiling charmingly."Please don't go! Really, we've almost finished. The dust is dying down already.""After manoeuvring the barricade outside successfully you've got to stay, old man," Denis declared. "Tell us what you're doing, anyway, Nell."But Nell was interested to see the ruefulness in her visitor's face change suddenly to keen amusement. She followed his look to the head of Sheila Pat, which, adorned dusterwise, was crowned with her pig-tail sticking straight up on top out of the duster. She gave a little laugh, and he laughed too. She turned to Denis and explained why they were cleaning out the room. Then Ted Lancaster astonished them all."I say," he burst out eagerly, "I wish you'd let me stay and lend a hand!"Sheila Pat, squatting on her heels in the middle of the floor, with a short brush, looked up at him approvingly."Come along in and shut the door, there's a good boy!"The good boy's eyes twinkled as he obeyed. He removed his extremely smart coat and professed his readiness to begin."By the way," observed Denis, the corners of his mouth twitching humorously, "I'd better introduce him first!""Oh—yes," said Nell, blushing suddenly.Ted Lancaster bowed gravely to her and with almost deeper gravity to Sheila Pat."That's another sister over there in the cupboard," Denis remarked. "Molly's fond of cupboards."The two boys set to work and raised a fearful dust. Nell observed ruefully that the parts they were sweeping had been gone over once already.Ted looked up earnestly, his brush pausing:—"You must let us do it—O'Brien and me—every week, Miss O'Brien; our arms are stronger.""I," said the Atom, weightily, "think you are a very nice boy.""And I think you are a very nice lit—young lady.""I'll show you my snowy-breasted Pearl afterwards.""Eh? Oh, thanks.""He's very sensertive; you mustn't mind if he bites you a little.""Oh, I'll like it. So your white-breasted Pearl's a boy, is he?""I'll essplain to you about his name another time," she said with great dignity. She came closer, and whispered: "Denis calls him somethin' else. I'm 'fraid he might do it now. Promise you'll never,neverask him what he calls my Pearl!"He looked surprised into the beseeching face."All right," he said gently, "I'll never ask him.""Thank you."She dusted a table leg in silence."You are English, aren't you?" she said then.He nodded."Perhaps you've lived years and years in Ireland?""No.""Perhaps you've lived a little while there?"He was looking amused."No.""Perhaps you've stayed forheapsof visits there?""No.""Perhaps you've stayed for just afew littlevisits?""No."Sheila Pat stared in disappointed wonder."Haven't you ever been there atall?""Never set foot in it.""Oh!"Presently, "Well, you're not at all bad—for England.""England," quoth he, gravely, "is the finest country in the world!"The Atom's eyes and mouth opened incredulously; a swift rush of delicate pink dyed her face."You—you're forgettin' Ireland!" she gasped."Not at all. I believe Ireland's a very decent little place.""Decent, is it?"—the Atom forgot her dusting—"I'm just s'prised a big boy like you should be such a—ahignoramous!"She waited proudly, then pursued, her voice trembling with earnestness: "You're all the same—you English! You're jealous of us! You—oh, you're all stupid donkeys!"It was a downfall from eloquence to rude vituperation. But she was, for the moment, beyond realisation of that. She stood waiting, her eyes shining. But interruption, in the form of Miss Kezia, broke in on Ted's answer, and the discussion had to be postponed for the present. Miss Kezia was somewhat amused, in a dry sort of way, at their room-cleaning. She shrugged her shoulders over it; if they liked to amuse themselves that way, it did no harm, and work never yet hurt anyone. She asked Ted to stay to luncheon, and he accepted. He seemed to enjoy the roast beef and jam roly pudding. He talked courteously to Miss Kezia, he skirmished with the Atom, but he avoided Nell's eyes.Nell seemed absent-minded, sunk in thought. After luncheon in the hall she seized an opportunity and approached him."I—I want to beg your pardon," she said stiffly, "for—for that night—""Oh—ah—awfully good of you—good-bye! I say, O'Brien, you'll be late at the bank—I mean," glancing swiftly at her and away again, "not at all—of course—" He was out of the hall door, hustling in front of Denis, down the steps, and into the street."You're in a hurry, aren't you?" observed Denis, mildly surprised."Er—yes." He turned his red face away, and strode on.Nell went up to the Stronghold, smiling unwillingly. She felt as if she had known him for years, and she resented the feeling. She told herself that it was most annoying—his having come in just that morning when they were cleaning out the room; it was most unfortunate, for how could anyone be politely distant and dignified under such circumstances? And of course sweeping and laughing and having jokesmadeyou feel as if you had known a person for quite a long while—even an objectionable person like this Ted Lancaster, who spent his time lounging about and doing nothing except visit his tailor. She was quite sure he visited his tailor a great deal. And he preferred a motor-car to horses! By the time she reached the Stronghold she was frowning."Sheila Pat, come and write your dictation.""Nell," the Atom observed as she sat her down, "I'm very sorry for that poor boy.""Why?""He'snever been in Ireland, Nell!""Well, so haven't lots of other people.""I don't mind about them, but I like that boy, and all these wicked men in Parlymint have—diseasedhis mind about Ireland! I have forgave all the nasty things he said because I'm so sorry for him, poor boy. And you see," patronisingly, "he doesn't know anythin' about it.""He's not a bit good-looking," observed Molly irrelevantly; "he's got rather a big nose.""Molly O'Brien, you're none so beautiful yourself that you need be rude about other persons' noses," severely. "That boy's the best I've seen in this London yet!""What queer taste you have, Sheila Pat!" said Nell, with a curl of her lip.The Atom did not heed her. She was sunk deep in thought."I like him," she remarked after a while thoughtfully. "Sure I wouldn't mind him about—when it's mistletoe time!"CHAPTER XMiss Kezia put her latch-key into the lock in a serene frame of mind. She had spent a morning in giving advice. In any case that was a way congenial to her of spending her time. Moreover, on this occasion her advice had been taken; all the bare, unsweetened pills concocted of her wisdom had been swallowed unmurmuringly. Miss Kezia smiled decorously as she stood on her doorstep. Then she opened the door, and was greeted with an emphatic: "Git out, you old meddlar! D'you hear? Git out!"The shock to her was considerable; it was the more considerable that it came on top of her advice-given-and-taken morning.She paused, her hand on the latch of the door. She had a confused impression that her Irish relatives were showing her a new side of their character; the voice had come from the Stronghold. Hitherto, however noisy, however tiresome, they had not been rude. Indeed, their soft manners had oftentimes riled her, she being unable, in her rough austerity, to disconnect the softness altogether from insincerity.She was not an imaginative woman; her mind was not formed even to comprehend, or make allowance for, the quality of imagination in another. But as her bonnet slowly rose from her head, she felt suddenly as if she had been precipitated into an evil dream. For a moment the solid aspect of everyday life, in which she moved and had her being, lost its common-sense reality. She merely stood, feeling her bonnet rise. Then, with a sudden angry gesture, she put up her hand to her head. It encountered another hand, a little, soft, cold hand; gentle little flabby fingers clung round hers, and even Miss Kezia's strong nerves received a severe jar. She had no belief in ghosts, in spirits, or any of "that sort of rubbish," under which designation she lumped many occult subjects together, but a little gentle hand in mid-air, clasping hers, was somewhat disconcerting even to her well-balanced mind. She glanced up hurriedly, feeling suddenly very hot. She saw nothing. She gazed, with a sort of angry anxiety, round the little hall. The two chairs stood there as usual; the hat-stand looked no different. Mechanically she counted, seizing unconsciously and with relief on the everyday hats and coats. There was Herr Schmidt's bowler and Denis's cap and coat. Her eye was arrested suddenly; from out the coat a little wizened face looked down at her, inimitably wise, inimitably sad. Miss Kezia took a step towards it; a long lean arm came softly out in the direction of her bonnet. She drew back and went towards the stairs."Hulloa!" shouted a voice. "By Jove, ain't she a disy! Oh, Lor'!" The voice broke suddenly into shrieks of laughter. It was such intensely rude laughter that Miss Kezia reddened hotly, and almost shrank, for a moment, from it. The plaintive, long-drawn miaow of a cat rose above the laughter. Howls—sudden, frenzied wails of woe rose above both. Miss Kezia went upstairs and entered the Stronghold.As she opened the door something darted past her. There was a wild shouting: "Shut the door! He's gone! Look out, she'll be off, too!" Miss Kezia felt herself being pushed unceremoniously to one side; there was a bang of the door, and she found herself alone in the Stronghold. She drew her hand across her forehead."Oh, Lor', here's the disy!"Miss Kezia positively jumped; she jumped quite badly. She found herself staring into a grey old face, into a pair of eyes that seemed to have looked into all the wickedness of the world. She was not alone in the Stronghold. A grey parrot sat on the back of a chair and returned her gaze with an insolentsang froid."Get out!" he adjured her. "You're a disy, you are!"The dissipated wrinkles round his old eyes added to hisblaséair of knowing all things."Old meddlar!" he screamed at her in sudden anger. "Old meddlar,—meddlar-meddlar-meddlar," and he sank into sudden heavy silence. He was a particularly ugly specimen of his kind; he was scarce of feathers, on his poll there was a nasty wound, and one leg had very obviously at some time been broken and very badly reset. His self-admiration, nevertheless, was so absurdly apparent that it raised an intense irritation in Miss Kezia's mind. His air of superiority was aggressive; his little beady eye told her she was dirt. They stared at each other. Then Miss Kezia's attention was drawn suddenly to a box on the table. Under the circumstances she was not really much surprised to observe that its lid was slowly rising. Across her mind there flitted, with a vague discomfort, the memory of Irish superstition, of the Irish belief in fairies and "such rubbish." She gave herself an angry shake and approached the box. As she did so a small brown head appeared in the aperture, a small brown body followed it, and a thin little mouse scudded across the table and disappeared. Miss Kezia waged a deadly war with mice; the faintest suggestion of a nibble anywhere in the house resulted in traps—a whole army of traps—up and down stairs. But now she stood and watched mouse after mouse push up the box lid, alight on the table with a little thud, and disappear. She counted six mechanically, and then she awoke to full realisation of the enormity of what was happening. She approached the box, and with a firm hand pushed down the lid and put a heavy book upon it. Of the fact that the box was empty she remained in ignorance. Then she opened the door and went out on to the landing. She looked down into the hall, and beheld the decorous Sarah, capless, wispy, her apron torn, standing upon one of the staid hall chairs and screaming. Perhaps that gave Miss Kezia as severe a shock as any she had yet received. But it also acted as a swift and very emphatic brain-clearer. No douche of cold water was ever more effective in its action."Sarah!"Now Sarah had not been aware of the fact that her mistress was within the house. The knowledge, sudden and grim, found her quite unprepared, and coming, as it did, a climax on top of mice, monkeys, cats, dogs, parrots, tortoises, was too much for her equilibrium. Sarah fell with a clatter and a scream, and took the staid hall chair with her. She also took two umbrellas and a puppy. The puppy burst into howls and Sarah burst into tears. Each made a considerable noise, and a mouse fled appalled into Herr Schmidt's bowler. Some of the O'Briens appeared from the kitchen (Molly had apparently been embracing the coal box)."Here's the puppy!"The joy in Sheila Pat's shout was the finishing touch to Miss Kezia's wrath. It fairly blazed forth; she excelled herself. Her audience consisted chiefly of Sarah, still weeping; Molly, also weeping; and the wise-faced monkey, who sat in Denis's coat collar and listened with sad attention. For the rest Denis and Nell and the Atom appeared and disappeared at intervals in pursuit of the puppy, the cat, and the mice. Miss Kezia's peroration was eloquent; wrath lent it fire. But her eloquence began to fail at last, and then she demanded an explanation. Unfortunately, only Molly and Sarah were present at that point. Molly essayed an explanation, but evolved only the following:—"We—we didn't mean—it—we didn't. They—they—oh—poor little things—all cramped up—the—the cages were smaller—than themselves—we—we—we—"Then Miss Kezia said something that was not at all like her usual method of speech. In a voice thin and rasped with irritation and much eloquence, she observed:—"Apparently you think you are a pig! Eileen! Eileen! Icommandyou to come here!"Nell, a struggling puppy in her arms, stopped short. She was breathless, untidy, and hilarious."We've got them all now, except three of the mice," she added.The jet ornament in Miss Kezia's bonnet quivered spasmodically."Perhaps you will condescend to explain now how it happens that you have turned my house into a menagerie," she said.Nell sat down on the lowest stair and kissed the puppy's ugly little head."We are going to send them all to Kilbrannan, Aunt Kezia. Duckie, stay still then! You see—""You cannot send the missing mice away! They will overrun my house.""They'll have plenty of room, anyway! If you had seen the cages, Aunt Kezia! This blessed puppy—""Was in a cage smaller than himself! I have heard that already." There was sarcasm in her tone that was completely lost on Nell."Yes! Just imagine! Oh, we just had to buy them all. And that poor parrot was eating out of an empty pan! It was cruel! We just went in and bought them all.""Bought—them—all!" Miss Kezia echoed her words quite faintly."Youpaidfor these—these creatures!""Why, yes! It was a horrid little shop, half full of papers and magazines, half full of tobacco and pipes, and half full of these poor dears. Of course it was a good deal of money, but what were we to do? It was Jim who cost the most—oh, Denis, have you got the rest of the mice?""This beast of a midnight caroller has scratched a hunk of flesh out of my hand, and all because I saved a mouse from her cattish jaws!"He was holding a thin and mangy tabby cat at arm's length."Why didn't you let her catch it? It is perfectly ridiculous to be so childish at your age!" Poor Miss Kezia could not find words to express her utter disapproval and want of understanding."Well," observed Denis, "'twould be playing it pretty low to buy half-a-dozen tame mice and give 'em to the cat. I expect, if their opinion were asked, you'd find they preferred even the old Jew's cage to the cat's interior."Miss Kezia gave some final directions; there was a subdued fury in eye and voice due as much to her inadequacy to the occasion as to her anger at the havoc wrought in her well-ordered house. The monkey coughed softly, and Sarah, still weeping in the background, screamed. Sheila Pat appeared, climbed on to a chair, and lifted the monkey down. The monkey put a thin arm round her neck in a horribly human way. Sheila Pat kissed his face, and Miss Kezia called out in irrepressible horror."I love him," the Atom said calmly. "He's just 'zact like my dearrest Patsy O'Driscoll."The monkey's bright little eyes blinked knowingly."I believe he's a first cousin," Denis declared. "Ever been to Kilbrannan, old man? Played hand-ball on summer evenings on Patsy's wall, eh? Driven Kate in the jaunting-car? D'you know the road up-along by Dinny O'Sullivan's? Sure ye'll be meetin' the doctor's house to the west—ah, yes, thin, ye're knowin' that all right. Look at him smiling, Nell!"Miss Kezia turned a stiff back upon them and walked into her bedroom."She doesn't appreciate you, Jim."Jim coughed delicately. It was a funny little soft deprecating cough."He is just like Patsy," Nell said. "If we were to dress him up and put him on the box seat of the jaunting-car, he'd be acknowledged by his own mother!"Miss Kezia's bedroom door was opened."You will please to send off all those creatures to-day—and at once!"It was several hours before her mandate was obeyed. The packing took a considerable time. During those hours the monkey crept more and more into their affections."I think," opined Nell, "it's positively wicked to send him on a long, cold journey with a nasty little cough like that!""I shall feel as if I'm murdering one of my own relations," Denis agreed.Sheila Pat put a protecting arm round the monkey."Jimmy O'Driscoll," Denis said suddenly, "you have an artful countenance. Could you make yourself scarce whenever our respected aunt appeared on the scene? James, could you remember to remember that you're actually and bodily in Kilbrannan?""Oh, Denis!" Sheila Pat broke in ecstatically. "Oh, I do love Patsy's cousin!"That night Miss Kezia said, "I am thankful that yourpetshave left my house, and I beg that you will not spend your money in that ridiculous and wicked way again!" There was a sarcastic inflexion on the word "pets."CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER VIII
"What d'you think I'm let in for, Nell O'Brien?"
"I don't know. I haven't a guess in me. Aunt Kezia has squashed me flat. I've low instincts, Denis,—think of that! And no sense of what is befitting a young lady, and all sorts of other things. Oh, I'm a bad character entirely!"
He flung down his hat.
"Think I didn't know all that already? What made our respected aunt discover it?"
"I'm sick of having no models!" she burst out passionately. "I haven't touched a horse for weeks! I—I'm just aching for the mere feel of them! A cat! Beyond Kate Kearney I'm offered a cat! It's like offering a starving man a piece of sugar-stick! Denis, try to draw a cat! A heap of stupid, meaningless fur! No muscles—no veins—oh, a horse is so glorious to paint!" She broke off with a quick little laugh. "Twin Nell 'pletely sorry," she said, using an old baby formula. "Tell me what you're let in for?"
"Not till you tell me what you've been up to."
"Oh, it was nothing. I saw a hansom waiting outside the corner house. Ripping little chestnut, Denis," her whole-face kindled irresistibly; "the driver told me she was almost a thoroughbred. When a car passed along the top of the road, she played-up beautifully. Oh, the drawing in her! Well, I saw her from a window and seized up my sketch-book and bolted up the road. Now, is there any harm in that? I asked the driver how long he thought he'd be, and he smiled and said his fare was a solicitor who'd come to a client's house on business. 'They charge for their time, miss!' he said meaningly, so I rejoiced and started sketching her in. And he was such a nice man, too. He'd actually been to the Dublin horse show a few years ago. We had an argument about our horses. And he made her put her head as I wanted, and he told me how he'd come across her, and then—oh, I'd left the hall door open, of course, and Aunt Kezia—oh, Denis, you'd think I'd committed something much worse than a murder!"
"Show me the sketch."
"I did one of her—and then several bits—quite rough. I'm going to paint her into that picture I was doing."
"It's splendid, Nell. What a cute little beast!"
"Now tell me what you've been let in for?"
"A speech! A lecture! Old Yovil has let us all in for it. You can't say no to him somehow—he sort of works you up. Lancaster's swearing like the wind round the Craffrone tower. He says he must have been out of his mind to say he'd do it, but he can't go back now. It's to be on the third. Choose any subject you like—write it up—no notes, though—and spout forth in his drawing-room to a long-suffering audience. There're six of us going in for it, and a ripping edition of all the immortal Billy's plays for the winner."
"Which will be you," annotated Nell with conviction.
"Not it! There's one chap—Morley—poetical sort of ass, who wears his hair too long—he'll beat me in a canter, my dear, not to mention the others."
"I'll come and hear you, won't I, Denis?"
"Wish you could! But there won't be any ladies. Only us and Yovil, you know."
After luncheon a maid came to ask if the Atom might go and have tea with Stewart. Sheila Pat, her Pearl clasped beneath one arm, and a spelling-book beneath the other, interviewed her in the hall.
"I'm not comin', thank you, Mary."
The maid hesitated. "If you could, miss—"
"I have reasons of my own for not comin', Mary."
"Very well, miss, only—he's such a dear little boy, and you'd brighten him up like."
Sheila Pat looked worried.
"Does he want me to come?"
"Yes, miss."
"Then I will!" She heaved a big sigh. "Unless," brightening, "Aunt Kezia doesn't wish me to. I'll go and ask her."
She came back sadly.
"I can come," she said ungraciously.
"Sarah! Sarah!"
Down the stairs floated Miss Kezia's voice, stern anger in its tone.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sarah, I cannot find my house-shoes! I have forbidden you to move any of my things."
"I—I haven't touched 'em, ma'am!"
"She's getting trembly—like an earthquake, poor little hap'orth," observed Nell.
"Not touched them? Then where are they? They have disappeared! Are you sure—"
"Nell—oh,Nell, I—I put them on the dining-room fender to warm!"
"Molly! Oh, you are too lovely for anything! Hadn't you better go and tell her?"
Molly cowered down in her chair.
"I daren't!"
"I will, then."
She turned to the door, but Molly jumped up. "No, I'll go!"
She came tearing back presently and flung herself down into a chair.
"Well?"
But Molly buried her head in the chair-back and said nothing.
"Molly," Nell grasped her shoulder, "was she awful?"
"Y-yes, she was!" sobbed Molly. "Oh, I did want to soften her—and—and—oh, Nell," her voice suddenly shook with watery laughter, "K.K. had been at her shoes and—had eaten all the linings!"
"Oh, howdelightful!"
"It's awfully funny, but—oh, she's in a frightful temper! She—she says I'm an interfering—busybody! And when she wants coddling—she'll—she'll have a nurse in to do it for her—properly! She—shut K.K. in the boot closet! She made Sarah clear it out first. Can't you hear her howling? Oh, Nell, why did I go and forget all about her shoes? I meant to take them to her directly she came in—all nice and warm—"
"She might be warm, but she wouldn't be nice, Mol."
"Don't be silly! You know what I meant. Of course, it's all very funny to you—"
"My dear Molly, you must confess it is rather funny!"
Molly began to shake with laughter. "Oh, Nell, and K.K. looked so beautifully meek and innocent and the linings only little bits of leather left sticking out—and they'resuchbig, flat shoes! And K.K.'s toe-scratches all over them. Oh, and Nell—" Molly couldn't go on for a while—"while she—was talking—so awfully majestic and angry—oh,Nell!—K.K. seized a shoe out of her hand and fled with it, shaking it—you know how she does! Oh, I'm glad you weren't there!"
After a while Nell went upstairs. She listened outside the boot closet; all was still. A good deal surprised, she went into her room. Sheila Pat, in her petticoat, sat huddled up on a chair, scissors in hand, bending over the frock she had just taken off.
"What are you doing, Atom?"
She lifted a worried face.
"I'm just lengthing it," she said curtly.
"Oh, Kate Kearney, how did you get out of the boot cupboard?"
"I let her out," calmly. "I tried all the keys on the doors, and," triumphantly, "Sarah's fitted it!"
"Sheila Pat, I'm ashamed of you. My dear child, you're not unpicking the stitches at all—you're merely cutting little snips in the stuff. And, anyway, you're not to do it."
"I like this dress, but it's rikkleously short. I don't think it'sperliteto wear them so short, Nell."
"Well, you'll have to be impolite then. Come along into the Stronghold, sweetheart. You're frozen."
"I did want to wear it to go and see that boy! Nell, wouldn'tyoujust let down the hem?"
"No, Atom, I won't. I hate long frocks for short atoms."
Presently, uneasily, "Do you hate me for being so hard, Sheila Pat?"
"The O'Briens," excessively grown-upedly, "don't hate each other so easily, Nell."
When the Atom came back after tea she was very quiet. Nell wondered if she were tired; she answered all questions as to her afternoon's enjoyment in her soft little voice that gave her curt sentences such a quaintness, but she originated no remark of her own. An hour after she had gone to bed Nell went into her room and peeped at her. She lay wide-eyed, thoughtful. A little after that she appeared suddenly in her night-gown at the door of the Stronghold.
"Hulloa, Atom!" Denis seized her and swung her up; her arms went round his neck.
"Denis," the strenuous little voice sounded as if it were near breaking, "I must go next door, please."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"But you're in your nightie, old girl! What do you want to go for?"
"It's a private reason." Her arms clung tighter; she pressed her cheek against his. Nell met the great eyes looking over his shoulder, and went up to her gently.
"Can't you wait till to-morrow, Atom?"
"Why, you'll have to," put in Molly. "If it's Stewart you want, he'll be in bed."
"I must go now, Denis; please take me now."
"We can wrap her up," said soft-hearted Denis.
The arms round his neck gave a little spasmodic squeeze.
"Thank y-you," said the Atom.
Laughing, he wrapped her in a great coat of his and a blanket, and carried her down the steps and in next door.
Mrs. Barclay was a good deal surprised to see them. Denis put the Atom down, and she stood shivering, her small white face peering with a queer intensity from out the blanket.
"Stewart, my dear? Well, I am afraid he is in bed—"
"Please may I go up to him?"
"Very well; come along."
"Please may I go by myalone?"
"Oh! Yes, dear, if you like."
"Thank you."
She turned and went up the stairs to the room Stewart had shown her that afternoon. She knocked politely at the door, then went in. The gas was burning dimly.
"You? Is it a fire next door?" He sat up in bed with joyful anticipation on his face.
"No. I—I want to speak to you."
"Is the Pearl ill?"
"No." She climbed on to his bed and sat silent.
"Hurry up!"
"I—you see, I think I have been very unjust. I am sorry. I—when you said you would rather learn your Catchykism than play cricket, was it because of your leg?"
"Oh, don't bother! I want to go to sleep!"
"Please tell me!" the tone was not pleading, but authoritative.
"Yes, then!"
"I—I'm very sorry," quavered Sheila Pat. "I'm not mostly so nasty," she added extenuatingly. "I didn't think of that."
Stewart was hugging his knees up under his chin.
"You see, I kept thinking you must be a goody-goo because of that."
"You see," he said haltingly, "I—can't run quickly—or field—"
"No."
There was a pause.
"Do you think," came the quavering little voice, "you will ever be able to like me?"
"Rather!"
"Do you like me now?"
"Course!"
"You may kiss me just once—round by that ear—if you like," said Sheila Pat.
"I'll kiss you twice if I like!" giving her two hearty smacks.
"Oh!" said Sheila Pat. Suddenly she perked up. "I shall call you Tommy," she said. "Stewart is like a book."
"All right."
"You see," her tone was rather uncomfortable, "I did mean—I had quite dessided—you see, I thought I had been very nasty, and I thought you would be very cross, and I did mean to give you—my Pearl—for a whole week—but I don't want to now."
"I wouldn't take her. Peter'd be awful jealous, you bet!"
"So he would," joyfully. "Oh, Tommy, do let's have a pillow fight!"
So it was that the listeners downstairs, with the memory of the small tragic figure that had left them still vividly in their minds, were startled by a sudden uproar of cries and bumps and laughter. Denis, up the stairs in a moment, and joining in the fray in another moment, found a wild Sheila Pat, shining-eyed, squealing with excitement, pelting Stewart with a pillow. He was not surprised, but Mrs. Barclay felt somewhat bewildered.
CHAPTER IX
Sheila Pat came thoughtfully into the room. "Nell," she observed, "we give Sarah a lot of extra work."
Nell looked up with an absent eye. She was trying to calculate how much they would be able to spend on toys for their Dublin hospital this year. They were determined not to omit their contribution to the annual Christmas tree and festivities.
"We make our own beds," said Molly, virtuously.
"But she has to clean out this room to-day; it's cleanin' day. And she's goin' home this evenin' to see her mother, and she walks all the way there and back with her young man. You see, if she didn't, she'd never be walkin' out with him at all. And she tidies up at home, because her mother's mostly ailin', and she bathes every one of her brothers and sisters. There now, Nell O'Brien!"
Nell flung aside paper and pencil.
"Come on, Atom, we'll turn this room out ourselves!"
"I'll go and tell Sarah." The Atom trotted contentedly from the room. "Aunt Kezia's out!" she called back.
"How on earth do you begin?" asked Molly, looking helplessly around.
"Oh, you put everything out in the passage first of all," said Nell, confidently, "then you tie your head up in a duster or something, because of the dust, you know, and then you begin to sweep and fill the room with dust. Oh, and the big things you cover over with dusting sheets. I'll get all the things we'll want from Sarah. You go and tie up your head."
"Oh, miss!" Sarah was in a state of horror bordering on lunacy. "You young ladies to do my work!"
But Nell got her way in the end.
The Atom helped in a silence that was ecstatic. She pinned up her pig-tail, and tied a clean duster round her head. Molly followed suit, and then the supply being exhausted, Nell twisted a pale blue silk scarf round hers, and they set to work. They brushed and brushed; silence reigned in the Stronghold. Sheila Pat broke it to observe in a rather breathless but deeply content voice, "We're gettin' a fine dust now!"
Denis came in with a rush. "Hulloa! I say, old man," he called over his shoulder, "rather a choking atmosphere!"
Nell's greeting froze on her lips. Her laughing glance met a pair of well-remembered grey eyes looking straight at her over Denis's shoulder. She stood quite still; the hot colour dyed her face red.
"I'll go—really, O'Brien, I'd rather—another time!"
The uncomfortable murmur reached her ear; she forgot all about her unfortunate visit—all about her sense of antagonism. She went swiftly forward, hand outstretched, smiling charmingly.
"Please don't go! Really, we've almost finished. The dust is dying down already."
"After manoeuvring the barricade outside successfully you've got to stay, old man," Denis declared. "Tell us what you're doing, anyway, Nell."
But Nell was interested to see the ruefulness in her visitor's face change suddenly to keen amusement. She followed his look to the head of Sheila Pat, which, adorned dusterwise, was crowned with her pig-tail sticking straight up on top out of the duster. She gave a little laugh, and he laughed too. She turned to Denis and explained why they were cleaning out the room. Then Ted Lancaster astonished them all.
"I say," he burst out eagerly, "I wish you'd let me stay and lend a hand!"
Sheila Pat, squatting on her heels in the middle of the floor, with a short brush, looked up at him approvingly.
"Come along in and shut the door, there's a good boy!"
The good boy's eyes twinkled as he obeyed. He removed his extremely smart coat and professed his readiness to begin.
"By the way," observed Denis, the corners of his mouth twitching humorously, "I'd better introduce him first!"
"Oh—yes," said Nell, blushing suddenly.
Ted Lancaster bowed gravely to her and with almost deeper gravity to Sheila Pat.
"That's another sister over there in the cupboard," Denis remarked. "Molly's fond of cupboards."
The two boys set to work and raised a fearful dust. Nell observed ruefully that the parts they were sweeping had been gone over once already.
Ted looked up earnestly, his brush pausing:—
"You must let us do it—O'Brien and me—every week, Miss O'Brien; our arms are stronger."
"I," said the Atom, weightily, "think you are a very nice boy."
"And I think you are a very nice lit—young lady."
"I'll show you my snowy-breasted Pearl afterwards."
"Eh? Oh, thanks."
"He's very sensertive; you mustn't mind if he bites you a little."
"Oh, I'll like it. So your white-breasted Pearl's a boy, is he?"
"I'll essplain to you about his name another time," she said with great dignity. She came closer, and whispered: "Denis calls him somethin' else. I'm 'fraid he might do it now. Promise you'll never,neverask him what he calls my Pearl!"
He looked surprised into the beseeching face.
"All right," he said gently, "I'll never ask him."
"Thank you."
She dusted a table leg in silence.
"You are English, aren't you?" she said then.
He nodded.
"Perhaps you've lived years and years in Ireland?"
"No."
"Perhaps you've lived a little while there?"
He was looking amused.
"No."
"Perhaps you've stayed forheapsof visits there?"
"No."
"Perhaps you've stayed for just afew littlevisits?"
"No."
Sheila Pat stared in disappointed wonder.
"Haven't you ever been there atall?"
"Never set foot in it."
"Oh!"
Presently, "Well, you're not at all bad—for England."
"England," quoth he, gravely, "is the finest country in the world!"
The Atom's eyes and mouth opened incredulously; a swift rush of delicate pink dyed her face.
"You—you're forgettin' Ireland!" she gasped.
"Not at all. I believe Ireland's a very decent little place."
"Decent, is it?"—the Atom forgot her dusting—"I'm just s'prised a big boy like you should be such a—ahignoramous!"
She waited proudly, then pursued, her voice trembling with earnestness: "You're all the same—you English! You're jealous of us! You—oh, you're all stupid donkeys!"
It was a downfall from eloquence to rude vituperation. But she was, for the moment, beyond realisation of that. She stood waiting, her eyes shining. But interruption, in the form of Miss Kezia, broke in on Ted's answer, and the discussion had to be postponed for the present. Miss Kezia was somewhat amused, in a dry sort of way, at their room-cleaning. She shrugged her shoulders over it; if they liked to amuse themselves that way, it did no harm, and work never yet hurt anyone. She asked Ted to stay to luncheon, and he accepted. He seemed to enjoy the roast beef and jam roly pudding. He talked courteously to Miss Kezia, he skirmished with the Atom, but he avoided Nell's eyes.
Nell seemed absent-minded, sunk in thought. After luncheon in the hall she seized an opportunity and approached him.
"I—I want to beg your pardon," she said stiffly, "for—for that night—"
"Oh—ah—awfully good of you—good-bye! I say, O'Brien, you'll be late at the bank—I mean," glancing swiftly at her and away again, "not at all—of course—" He was out of the hall door, hustling in front of Denis, down the steps, and into the street.
"You're in a hurry, aren't you?" observed Denis, mildly surprised.
"Er—yes." He turned his red face away, and strode on.
Nell went up to the Stronghold, smiling unwillingly. She felt as if she had known him for years, and she resented the feeling. She told herself that it was most annoying—his having come in just that morning when they were cleaning out the room; it was most unfortunate, for how could anyone be politely distant and dignified under such circumstances? And of course sweeping and laughing and having jokesmadeyou feel as if you had known a person for quite a long while—even an objectionable person like this Ted Lancaster, who spent his time lounging about and doing nothing except visit his tailor. She was quite sure he visited his tailor a great deal. And he preferred a motor-car to horses! By the time she reached the Stronghold she was frowning.
"Sheila Pat, come and write your dictation."
"Nell," the Atom observed as she sat her down, "I'm very sorry for that poor boy."
"Why?"
"He'snever been in Ireland, Nell!"
"Well, so haven't lots of other people."
"I don't mind about them, but I like that boy, and all these wicked men in Parlymint have—diseasedhis mind about Ireland! I have forgave all the nasty things he said because I'm so sorry for him, poor boy. And you see," patronisingly, "he doesn't know anythin' about it."
"He's not a bit good-looking," observed Molly irrelevantly; "he's got rather a big nose."
"Molly O'Brien, you're none so beautiful yourself that you need be rude about other persons' noses," severely. "That boy's the best I've seen in this London yet!"
"What queer taste you have, Sheila Pat!" said Nell, with a curl of her lip.
The Atom did not heed her. She was sunk deep in thought.
"I like him," she remarked after a while thoughtfully. "Sure I wouldn't mind him about—when it's mistletoe time!"
CHAPTER X
Miss Kezia put her latch-key into the lock in a serene frame of mind. She had spent a morning in giving advice. In any case that was a way congenial to her of spending her time. Moreover, on this occasion her advice had been taken; all the bare, unsweetened pills concocted of her wisdom had been swallowed unmurmuringly. Miss Kezia smiled decorously as she stood on her doorstep. Then she opened the door, and was greeted with an emphatic: "Git out, you old meddlar! D'you hear? Git out!"
The shock to her was considerable; it was the more considerable that it came on top of her advice-given-and-taken morning.
She paused, her hand on the latch of the door. She had a confused impression that her Irish relatives were showing her a new side of their character; the voice had come from the Stronghold. Hitherto, however noisy, however tiresome, they had not been rude. Indeed, their soft manners had oftentimes riled her, she being unable, in her rough austerity, to disconnect the softness altogether from insincerity.
She was not an imaginative woman; her mind was not formed even to comprehend, or make allowance for, the quality of imagination in another. But as her bonnet slowly rose from her head, she felt suddenly as if she had been precipitated into an evil dream. For a moment the solid aspect of everyday life, in which she moved and had her being, lost its common-sense reality. She merely stood, feeling her bonnet rise. Then, with a sudden angry gesture, she put up her hand to her head. It encountered another hand, a little, soft, cold hand; gentle little flabby fingers clung round hers, and even Miss Kezia's strong nerves received a severe jar. She had no belief in ghosts, in spirits, or any of "that sort of rubbish," under which designation she lumped many occult subjects together, but a little gentle hand in mid-air, clasping hers, was somewhat disconcerting even to her well-balanced mind. She glanced up hurriedly, feeling suddenly very hot. She saw nothing. She gazed, with a sort of angry anxiety, round the little hall. The two chairs stood there as usual; the hat-stand looked no different. Mechanically she counted, seizing unconsciously and with relief on the everyday hats and coats. There was Herr Schmidt's bowler and Denis's cap and coat. Her eye was arrested suddenly; from out the coat a little wizened face looked down at her, inimitably wise, inimitably sad. Miss Kezia took a step towards it; a long lean arm came softly out in the direction of her bonnet. She drew back and went towards the stairs.
"Hulloa!" shouted a voice. "By Jove, ain't she a disy! Oh, Lor'!" The voice broke suddenly into shrieks of laughter. It was such intensely rude laughter that Miss Kezia reddened hotly, and almost shrank, for a moment, from it. The plaintive, long-drawn miaow of a cat rose above the laughter. Howls—sudden, frenzied wails of woe rose above both. Miss Kezia went upstairs and entered the Stronghold.
As she opened the door something darted past her. There was a wild shouting: "Shut the door! He's gone! Look out, she'll be off, too!" Miss Kezia felt herself being pushed unceremoniously to one side; there was a bang of the door, and she found herself alone in the Stronghold. She drew her hand across her forehead.
"Oh, Lor', here's the disy!"
Miss Kezia positively jumped; she jumped quite badly. She found herself staring into a grey old face, into a pair of eyes that seemed to have looked into all the wickedness of the world. She was not alone in the Stronghold. A grey parrot sat on the back of a chair and returned her gaze with an insolentsang froid.
"Get out!" he adjured her. "You're a disy, you are!"
The dissipated wrinkles round his old eyes added to hisblaséair of knowing all things.
"Old meddlar!" he screamed at her in sudden anger. "Old meddlar,—meddlar-meddlar-meddlar," and he sank into sudden heavy silence. He was a particularly ugly specimen of his kind; he was scarce of feathers, on his poll there was a nasty wound, and one leg had very obviously at some time been broken and very badly reset. His self-admiration, nevertheless, was so absurdly apparent that it raised an intense irritation in Miss Kezia's mind. His air of superiority was aggressive; his little beady eye told her she was dirt. They stared at each other. Then Miss Kezia's attention was drawn suddenly to a box on the table. Under the circumstances she was not really much surprised to observe that its lid was slowly rising. Across her mind there flitted, with a vague discomfort, the memory of Irish superstition, of the Irish belief in fairies and "such rubbish." She gave herself an angry shake and approached the box. As she did so a small brown head appeared in the aperture, a small brown body followed it, and a thin little mouse scudded across the table and disappeared. Miss Kezia waged a deadly war with mice; the faintest suggestion of a nibble anywhere in the house resulted in traps—a whole army of traps—up and down stairs. But now she stood and watched mouse after mouse push up the box lid, alight on the table with a little thud, and disappear. She counted six mechanically, and then she awoke to full realisation of the enormity of what was happening. She approached the box, and with a firm hand pushed down the lid and put a heavy book upon it. Of the fact that the box was empty she remained in ignorance. Then she opened the door and went out on to the landing. She looked down into the hall, and beheld the decorous Sarah, capless, wispy, her apron torn, standing upon one of the staid hall chairs and screaming. Perhaps that gave Miss Kezia as severe a shock as any she had yet received. But it also acted as a swift and very emphatic brain-clearer. No douche of cold water was ever more effective in its action.
"Sarah!"
Now Sarah had not been aware of the fact that her mistress was within the house. The knowledge, sudden and grim, found her quite unprepared, and coming, as it did, a climax on top of mice, monkeys, cats, dogs, parrots, tortoises, was too much for her equilibrium. Sarah fell with a clatter and a scream, and took the staid hall chair with her. She also took two umbrellas and a puppy. The puppy burst into howls and Sarah burst into tears. Each made a considerable noise, and a mouse fled appalled into Herr Schmidt's bowler. Some of the O'Briens appeared from the kitchen (Molly had apparently been embracing the coal box).
"Here's the puppy!"
The joy in Sheila Pat's shout was the finishing touch to Miss Kezia's wrath. It fairly blazed forth; she excelled herself. Her audience consisted chiefly of Sarah, still weeping; Molly, also weeping; and the wise-faced monkey, who sat in Denis's coat collar and listened with sad attention. For the rest Denis and Nell and the Atom appeared and disappeared at intervals in pursuit of the puppy, the cat, and the mice. Miss Kezia's peroration was eloquent; wrath lent it fire. But her eloquence began to fail at last, and then she demanded an explanation. Unfortunately, only Molly and Sarah were present at that point. Molly essayed an explanation, but evolved only the following:—
"We—we didn't mean—it—we didn't. They—they—oh—poor little things—all cramped up—the—the cages were smaller—than themselves—we—we—we—"
Then Miss Kezia said something that was not at all like her usual method of speech. In a voice thin and rasped with irritation and much eloquence, she observed:—
"Apparently you think you are a pig! Eileen! Eileen! Icommandyou to come here!"
Nell, a struggling puppy in her arms, stopped short. She was breathless, untidy, and hilarious.
"We've got them all now, except three of the mice," she added.
The jet ornament in Miss Kezia's bonnet quivered spasmodically.
"Perhaps you will condescend to explain now how it happens that you have turned my house into a menagerie," she said.
Nell sat down on the lowest stair and kissed the puppy's ugly little head.
"We are going to send them all to Kilbrannan, Aunt Kezia. Duckie, stay still then! You see—"
"You cannot send the missing mice away! They will overrun my house."
"They'll have plenty of room, anyway! If you had seen the cages, Aunt Kezia! This blessed puppy—"
"Was in a cage smaller than himself! I have heard that already." There was sarcasm in her tone that was completely lost on Nell.
"Yes! Just imagine! Oh, we just had to buy them all. And that poor parrot was eating out of an empty pan! It was cruel! We just went in and bought them all."
"Bought—them—all!" Miss Kezia echoed her words quite faintly.
"Youpaidfor these—these creatures!"
"Why, yes! It was a horrid little shop, half full of papers and magazines, half full of tobacco and pipes, and half full of these poor dears. Of course it was a good deal of money, but what were we to do? It was Jim who cost the most—oh, Denis, have you got the rest of the mice?"
"This beast of a midnight caroller has scratched a hunk of flesh out of my hand, and all because I saved a mouse from her cattish jaws!"
He was holding a thin and mangy tabby cat at arm's length.
"Why didn't you let her catch it? It is perfectly ridiculous to be so childish at your age!" Poor Miss Kezia could not find words to express her utter disapproval and want of understanding.
"Well," observed Denis, "'twould be playing it pretty low to buy half-a-dozen tame mice and give 'em to the cat. I expect, if their opinion were asked, you'd find they preferred even the old Jew's cage to the cat's interior."
Miss Kezia gave some final directions; there was a subdued fury in eye and voice due as much to her inadequacy to the occasion as to her anger at the havoc wrought in her well-ordered house. The monkey coughed softly, and Sarah, still weeping in the background, screamed. Sheila Pat appeared, climbed on to a chair, and lifted the monkey down. The monkey put a thin arm round her neck in a horribly human way. Sheila Pat kissed his face, and Miss Kezia called out in irrepressible horror.
"I love him," the Atom said calmly. "He's just 'zact like my dearrest Patsy O'Driscoll."
The monkey's bright little eyes blinked knowingly.
"I believe he's a first cousin," Denis declared. "Ever been to Kilbrannan, old man? Played hand-ball on summer evenings on Patsy's wall, eh? Driven Kate in the jaunting-car? D'you know the road up-along by Dinny O'Sullivan's? Sure ye'll be meetin' the doctor's house to the west—ah, yes, thin, ye're knowin' that all right. Look at him smiling, Nell!"
Miss Kezia turned a stiff back upon them and walked into her bedroom.
"She doesn't appreciate you, Jim."
Jim coughed delicately. It was a funny little soft deprecating cough.
"He is just like Patsy," Nell said. "If we were to dress him up and put him on the box seat of the jaunting-car, he'd be acknowledged by his own mother!"
Miss Kezia's bedroom door was opened.
"You will please to send off all those creatures to-day—and at once!"
It was several hours before her mandate was obeyed. The packing took a considerable time. During those hours the monkey crept more and more into their affections.
"I think," opined Nell, "it's positively wicked to send him on a long, cold journey with a nasty little cough like that!"
"I shall feel as if I'm murdering one of my own relations," Denis agreed.
Sheila Pat put a protecting arm round the monkey.
"Jimmy O'Driscoll," Denis said suddenly, "you have an artful countenance. Could you make yourself scarce whenever our respected aunt appeared on the scene? James, could you remember to remember that you're actually and bodily in Kilbrannan?"
"Oh, Denis!" Sheila Pat broke in ecstatically. "Oh, I do love Patsy's cousin!"
That night Miss Kezia said, "I am thankful that yourpetshave left my house, and I beg that you will not spend your money in that ridiculous and wicked way again!" There was a sarcastic inflexion on the word "pets."
CHAPTER XI