The day after St. Patrick's day was a bad one for them. It was a beautiful day, bright and cold; but, in the reactionary mood that had gripped them all in a great gloom, the very brightness was a thing to rail at.
At the breakfast-table Miss Kezia gazed at them astonished. She was not a keen observer, but even she, with the memory of yesterday in her mind, marvelled at the sudden depression.
Denis, in the hall, observed gloomily:—
"Wish I'd get run over, or save a millionnaire's life. Either'd make a break."
"Millionnaires only get their lives saved in books," Nell rejoined bitterly.
He kicked the hat-stand angrily.
"Look here, Nell, I can't go to that beastly bank to-day. I'm sick of it! I'll be committing suicide, or murder, or something, if I do!"
A quick little sob caught suddenly at her throat.
"Oh, Denis!" she whispered. "Oh, Denis!"
He smoothed out a dent he had made in his hat. He looked up at her, a humorous smile twisting his mouth.
"Anyhow, I'll be a success as an author soon," he said. "Didn't I say all this beastly bank business was copy? Well, my books'll be pretty morbid and sordid, won't they?"
She felt blindly for his coat; it danced before her eyes in a mist. He began to laugh.
"I say, old fumble-fist, wouldn't old Pom-Pom be rich while I was murdering him? I can see him—'Excuse me, Mr. O'Brien, but you really are going to work in an unnecessarily rough manner.'" He dived an arm into the coat she held out for him. "Nell—think I shall ever want to bring in a realistic murder into a book? If so, now's the time to get it."
"You're late. Don't dawdle."
"Bet I'd get to the corner before you even if I gave you the steps in!"
"Not you!"
She flung open the door, jumped the long flight of steps, and vanished. She came back laughing, flushed, and vanquished, into the disapproving arms of Miss Kezia.
She listened to the lecture that followed in a passion of dreary revolt. When it was finished she observed tragically, "Next time I'll put on a veil!"
She went upstairs to Molly and French translation. She set Sheila Pat a sum to work out. Sheila Pat sat and gazed awhile at the figures, then she slid down from her chair.
"I won't do it, Nell!" she said.
She stood, a small figure at bay; a little quiver passed through her.
"Very well, asthore," Nell said gently.
The Atom went to the window and looked out. She came back to the table.
"Give me something to do, please, Nell."
Molly began, "Why, you just said—"
"I'm not sayin' it now, Molly O'Brien!"
"Duckie," Nell said, "will you write me a letter? I just feel I'd like a letter."
Sheila Pat got paper and ink and began:—
"My dear Nell—"
She wrote for a few minutes, then she said:—.
"May I say I've no time to write any more now, Nell? I don't want to write any more."
She went down into the garden and quarrelled violently with Stewart over the rival merits of St. George and St. Patrick. In the very heart of the argument she slipped and grazed her nose on the wall. But she retrieved her position without loss of time or dignity, and went on with the argument.
Nell met her later wandering aimlessly up and down the stairs, in and out the rooms.
"Please don't touch me!" she said strenuously as Nell advanced, and she ran away down to the kitchen. At luncheon she hardly ate anything; she fidgeted, was rude to Miss Kezia.
Afterward she refused to go for a walk with the others. She said with forlorn dignity:—
"I am tired of walkin' between houses that squeeze you to death, thank you."
To omnibuses she made much the same objection. Nell, in pity, left her alone.
Later on Nell went out to buy a tube of rose-madder. She was painting desperately, in a sudden wild accession of determination to get back to Kilbrannan somehow. When she came back she found Molly deep in a book in the Stronghold.
"Where's the Atom?"
"Somewhere about."
Nell searched.
"She isn't."
"Oh, she's gone, then. I didn't know she'd gone yet. The maid came from next door to ask her to go to tea with Stewart."
"I'm glad."
A little before six Miss Kezia came into the Stronghold. Denis whisked Jim behind him, and faced her serenely.
"Molly, I wish to know if it is to you I am indebted for—these?"
She held out a pair of large, flat, square-toed shoes, and pointed majestically to two frivolous-looking little bows on their toes.
Molly grew scarlet.
"Y-yes, Aunt Kezia! I—I—"
"I thought so. I should like to know why my property is never to be safe from you?"
"I—I saw—I saw there had been bows—and I—I made fresh ones—"
"Yes. I picked the bows off myself. I object to them." She stared at Molly with a puzzled frown. "You are a very peculiar girl," she said, and left the room.
"I took hours sewing them on!" wailed the discomfited Molly to an unsympathetic and much-amused audience.
"I believe our dear aunt thinks you're a bit wanting," declared Denis, tapping his brow.
Miss Kezia put her head round the door again
"Where is Sheila?"
"She hasn't come back yet."
"Come back? From where?"
"Next door," said Nell.
"What has she gone there for? I object to her running in and out."
"She went to tea."
"No. I have come from there only half an hour ago."
"Are you sure?" Nell looked bewildered.
"Stewart had tea with us. She was not there."
Nell looked at Molly; her eyes had widened suddenly,
"Molly!"—her voice was quite sharp—"you said she had gone—"
"I thought she had. A maid came and asked her—"
Denis bounded down the stairs.
"Sarah!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Do you know anything about a maid coming from next door to ask Miss Sheila to go to tea?"
"Yes, sir, but she said, 'No, thank you, she didn't wish to go.'"
"Have you seen her go out, Sarah?"
"No, sir. She's never out, and it pouring and that bitter cold and windy!"
In another minute he had on his coat, and had gone off to the milkman's to see if she were there. The others waited. Molly tried guiltily to comfort Nell, and to excuse herself.
"Oh, do be quiet!" Nell interrupted her. "Can't you at least do that?"
Denis returned with no news of her.
"She may have gone to Mr. Yovil's or to Sarah's home—"
"Or Ted Lancaster's—Denis," Nell's voice was desperate, "she's been gone nearly three hours! I can't stay here. I'll go to Sarah's, while you go—"
"You will not! You cannot go out alone! It is dark and raining," Miss Kezia interrupted.
Nell gave a queer little laugh.
"I'm going," she said.
"Nell," Denis interposed, "I'll get you a cab. You go to Mr. Yovil's—I'll go off to Lancaster's. Sarah will go home." His tone was quietly authoritative.
Miss Kezia found herself put aside and everyone obeying him implicitly. In reality she was very uneasy and anxious herself, but she hid it beneath a cold and disapproving manner.
Nell returned a few minutes after he did. She shook her head.
"He was out. She hasn't been there."
"There's Sarah yet. She isn't back."
"Must we wait, Denis?"
"No. I'm off to the police station. If she should bring her back, I can go and cancel orders."
His hand was on the door latch. "Here's Sarah!" he said.
Sarah hurried in, wet, breathless.
"No, missansir—oh, and them crool moters—and she such a baby for all her grown ways!"
The wind and the rain beat in angrily. Denis closed the door, and turned to speak to Nell. Something drove up and stopped outside. He flung open the door. In the light of the lamp they could discern a small figure standing by a horse's head. The horse was in a four-wheeled cab, the driver was getting down from his box. The next instant Sheila Pat was met at the gate and marshalled up the steps. Into the hall she came, a small, weary figure, drenched through, her face shining white in the lamplight.
They closed round her; Nell's arms squeezed her desperately; there was a babel of questions, reprimands, relief.
"What a rikkledous fuss!" were the first words the Atom spoke, and a strong odor of peppermint began to pervade the hall.
"Where have you been?" demanded Miss Kezia for the third time.
"Out," laconically.
Nell cried: "Oh, Sheila Pat, you're soaked through! Come and get dry things on!"
"Directly her clothes have been changed I wish to hear an account of what she has been doing," said Miss Kezia.
Denis picked her up into his arms and held her tight. "You're eating peppermint, you vulgar little ragamuffin!"
"He gave it me—he says it keeps out the cold wonderful. He used to take to drink to keep himself warm, but ever since his little baby was borned, a year ago, he sucks peppermint instead!" The excited little voice vanished up the stairs.
"With whom have you been consorting, Sheila?" Miss Kezia's dire tones followed her.
"I haven't been con—con—doin' that at all!" was the indignant response.
Denis translated into the wet ear nearest to him:—
"Who was 'he,' duckums?"
"Mr. Willie Riley," in a dignified voice. "And I shared his tea!" triumphantly.
"Hurry up, Denis!" Nell's face was worried, anxious. "I've her dry things all ready. But I think she ought to go to bed—"
"I won't! Sure, Nell O'Brien, I'm not a baby to go to bed at seven o'clock!"
Nell, rubbing her down, found she was shivering and trembling all through her slim little body. She huddled her into warm, dry clothes, rubbed her toes, hugged her.
"Asthore, asthore, you've given us all such a bad time!"
"But, Nell, I'm really not a baby! I don't see why you make such a fuss."
"You're absurd, Atom! We didn't know what might be happening to you. We don't know now what was happening. You must tell us—"
"I went out, and—and I got lost, Nell."
"But where did you go? And why?"
"Oh, we were all so frightened!" interposed Molly. "And I felt so awful, because I told Nell you were next door. I never dreamed you'd said you wouldn't go, and I heard the maid say it to Sarah, and oh, Sarah cried and said motor cars killed all the children, and I do think you're awfully naughty—" She stopped, out of breath.
"So do I." Nell's arms were round her again; she gave her a little shake. "I'm dreadfully angry with you, sweet, and you shall have some nice hot bread and milk presently."
"I don't want it, Nell! I shared Mr. Riley's tea."
"Tell me why you went out, Atom," she coaxed.
The little body stiffened.
"A person doesn't—always—want to—to tell things," she said, a note of desperation in her voice. "I'll tell you all about Mr. Riley," eagerly.
Denis came in. "I say, Aunt Kezia's waiting. Come and confess, Atom!"
"I won't."
"You've got to be a man. Come along."
He had touched the right note. Downstairs marched the Atom and into the dining room. Not pale was she now. Two vivid spots of colour glowed in her cheeks; her eyes shone. She sat her down on a chair and began:—
"I wished to go out all by my alone, so I put on my things and I creeped down the stairs and out of the door—"
"Most wrong! Most naughty!" interpolated Miss Kezia, but the Atom went on unheeding.
"Sure I'll not be tellin' you anythin' I don't wish to, so it's no use askin' undesirable questions about—" a halt, a momentary quaver, "about things. This London is just houses and houses and houses and streets like—" pause for an insulting metaphor, "like twin maggots! And I got lost." She stopped abruptly.
"It is very naughty and selfish to cause so much trouble to others while you enjoy yourself roaming the streets!" said Miss Kezia.
A curious expression came into the Atom's small face—a bitter little expression that made it look oddly old for a moment.
"Go on, asthore," Nell put in. "What did you do when you were lost?"
"I walked and walked. I wouldn't ask a policeman the way, because Sarah's young man says they're a bad lot and you can't trust them. And then," her face kindled, "I came upon a cab-stand, and there was one poor horse with his nose-bag slipped down,—the strap had come loose, and he couldn't get his poor nose in at all,—and I ran across and I kissed his nose—it had a white flame—he was a bay with a hog mane—and I tried to get his bag up, but, oh, 'tis heavy they are! I tried and tried, and I gave him a handful of oats to go on with, and then Willie Riley came along—" She broke off. "Oh, Nell," she said, in a breathless little aside, "all day long I'd been hearing all these hidjous London people's voices, all shoutin'—and Willie Riley came along, and oh, he called out, 'Sure and what's wrong at all?' Oh, but 'twas grand! All day I hadn't heard it. 'Sure and what's wrong at all?' just like that."
"The horse might have bitten you. It was a most foolish and foolhardy thing to do," reprimanded Miss Kezia.
Sheila Pat stared at her in a funny little considering way, then pursued:—
"He soon put it right, and then we had a talk. Nell, he comes from Cork! And he was tellin' me all about his home—"
"Get on with what you did!" put in Miss Kezia.
"I'm tellin' you," obstinately, "I talked with him. And then he drove me here." With a sudden abrupt movement she slipped from the chair. "I'll go to bed now."
There were great dark rings round her eyes; Nell saw her shiver.
"Come on, then, Atom," Denis picked her up again. "I'll carry you up."
The small arms went with sudden desperate clinging round his neck; Sheila Pat pressed her cheek hard into his.
"She must be punished," said Miss Kezia. "She has been wandering about alone for more than three hours."
"We'll see about that to-morrow," Denis said.
Nell went towards the kitchen.
"Where are you going, Eileen?"
"To make her some hot bread and milk."
"It is perfectly absurd the way you none seem to think she should be punished—"
"I shall make her promise never to go out alone again."
"She shared that cabman's tea," grimly; "that is sufficient. I will not have her coddled and fussed over as if she has done something clever."
"She must have the bread and milk. She is tired and shivering." Nell's eyes looked dark, her head was back. For a moment Miss Kezia hesitated whether she should enforce her words. She glanced keenly at Nell's face.
"If it is to stave off a cold, I will say no more," she said, and turned away.
When Nell took the bread and milk up, she found Sheila Pat on Denis's knee, flushed, heavy-eyed, half asleep.
"I don't want it, Nell! Make her take it away, Denis!" Her tone was peevish.
"Not I. I want you to eat it. Come, try, old girl."
But the Atom turned her head away, and buried it deeper in his chest.
"I don't want it! I don't want it!"
"But you've got to try and eat it, Sheila Pat! Come, don't be a baby."
She sat up listlessly.
"I'll feed you. We'll pretend you are a baby, shall we?"
Halfway through it her heavy lids drooped, her weary little head fell back against his shoulder. Nell took the basin away.
"I'll get her to bed as quickly as I can," she whispered.
"Molly, run and fetch her nightie—to warm."
But the Atom clung wearily to Denis.
"I don't want to go to bed. Denis, need I go to bed?"
"Must, old lady."
"May I go in my clothes, then? I don't want to get undressed."
"You'll be so much more cosey, dear," coaxed Nell. "It won't take a minute."
Denis put her down. She stood gazing into the fire, her sleepy eyes closing now and then.
"Oh, Nell—why does a person have such a lot of clothes?" as her arms were dragged out of various garments.
"Oh—leave my chimmy on—"
"Need I have my stockin's off?"
In her blue flannel nightgown she knelt in front of a chair and said her prayers. She roused over them.
"I've got a new bit to-night," she said, and gave a curious little shudder. "I'm goin' to pray it to Jesus as well as God."
When she had finished Nell carried her into their bedroom, wrapped in a warmed blanket.
"Good night, Nell." Sheila Pat's arms clung tight.
Three times Nell peeped in that evening, and found her tossing restlessly, wide-eyed.
When she came to bed, Sheila Pat was still awake. She sat up.
"Nell, I've been very inceitful!"
"You're going to tell me why you went out?"
"Yes."
Nell sat down on the bed and took her, blankets and all, into her lap.
"Now, sweetheart."
But the Atom was silent. She wriggled restlessly.
"I feel—oh, someone's playin' tunes in my head, Nell! I—won't I ever be sleepy again? My legs hurt, Nell. Is it all those steps?"
"What steps, dear?"
"The monnyment. Are you very s'prised? I went up the monnyment—to—Nell, do you think I've got a cold comin'? My nose feels funny."
"I'm afraid you have. Go on, pet."
"The boy told me—I asked him—he had blue eyes and red cheeks and—and I thought he might be nice like an Irish boy, and—and—I—I felt," with sudden passion, "I would just die if I didn't see it—just one tiny bit! And he said I could—from the top of the monnyment—he said, 'Oh, yes, you can see Ireland right enough from there, you can see all the world,' but—I—couldn't—"
Nell's arms tightened about her.
"He was a wicked boy! He told a lie. I mustn't say 'lie,' but I will. I could only see—dirty—smoke—and houses—"
"How did you find your way there?"
"I don't know. It was very differcult, and I kept goin' wrong, but I asked people. And one woman gave me an apple off her barrow. It was very kind of her. But there was only smoke and houses—"
A sudden convulsive sob shook her from head to foot.
"I—I ran up a lot of the steps—" her fingers dug into Nell's arm—"and it was three pennies—and the man told me there are three hundred and forty-five steps—it was a long way—and," a little terrified shudder shook her, "there's a nasty cage—he said it's because people used to throw theirselves over to—because they wanted to kill theirselves, Nell! I—I didn't know people ever wanted to kill theirselves, did you?"
The shrinking terror in her eyes hurt Nell horribly.
"Don't, Atom—don't! Dear, it's only poor people who—who are mad—who don't know what they are doing. If they knew, they wouldn't do it."
The terror lightened a little. She lay quiet a little while in Nell's arms.
Nell hoped she was falling asleep, but presently the whole small form was shaken by another desperate sob.
"It was only smoke—-and houses—" came a desolate little murmur of utter weariness.
"Try to go to sleep, darling—do try."
"I'm not cryin', Nell! Only—I—you see shiverin' and a cold is rather like cryin', isn't it?"
"Very much, but you'll be better to-morrow. You must get better quickly, because suppose our first letters from Australia were to come with you sick! And they may come any day now, sweet. And there mustn't be anyone sick here! Because how can we celebrate the occasion properly then? If the letters say that mother is quite, quite strong again—and they will, darling, I know they will!—well, what shall we do then?"
She talked on softly, gently, and after a while the Atom slept. Nell sat for some time with her on her lap, frightened to move lest she wake her, but at last she laid her gently in her bed, and the Atom still slept on.
But the next morning Nell was wakened suddenly at six o'clock. She sat up. The Atom was striving to pour some water from the bottle to the glass, and it was the two clinking together that had waked Nell. The bottle shook in the Atom's hands; Nell saw that she was shaking all over.
She slipped to the floor.
"Go back to bed, asthore, I'll give you some water."
"I—I'm so th-thirsty, Nell, and I c-can't keep still—I'm r-rather like Mrs. J-Jelly!" with a shivery little smile.
"You're frozen. Now, drink it quickly, and let me tuck you in again."
"I'd sooner get up, Nell."
"Not yet, Sheila Pat."
"My bed's so c-cold, Nell. I don't like my bed."
"Come into mine, dear."
She snuggled into Nell, shivering and shaking.
"Will I make you very cold?"
"Oh, no, asthore. Now go to sleep."
After a while Nell dozed. She woke suddenly to find Sheila Pat lying beside her with all the bedclothes off.
"I'm so hot, Nell! I just burn—I b'lieve I'll scorch soon."
"You've caught a bad cold, Sheila Pat. You'll have to stay in bed."
"I won't! I want to go out and get cool. I'll go and have my cold bath now."
But very soon she was shivering again.
Miss Kezia sent for Dr. Everton. Sheila Pat was pronounced an invalid, the fire was lit, and the restless little Atom condemned to bed.
Dr. Everton looked grave; he murmured the dread words—rheumatic fever—but hoped it might be merely a heavy, influenza cold. He told them to be very careful.
It seemed a long, long day. Sheila Pat, realising she was to be an invalid, used all her sturdy powers to be a brave one. She was very hot and feverish; her poor little head ached, and she ached all over her body.
"Nell," she said once, "I can't be very little, after all, because there's such a heap of room for the aches! I feel most as big as the giant Mahon MacMahon. Nell, I wonder if he ever caught cold?"
But there was something that worried the Atom and tormented her far more than the worst of the aches did, and that was a bewildering, disconcerting longing to cry that had assailed her. Over and over again the tears got as far as her eyes, and had to be hidden away in the pillow. Once one ran down her cheek, and they caught her breath in her throat and made it ache with a worse ache than that in her legs. She lay tossing and turning, her brilliant eyes full of a desperation that hurt the others to see. Every other minute she was sitting up, her pig-tail sticking out, breathing hard.
"Mayn't I get up, just for a minute? May I just put my legs over the edge, then? Nell, I—I'm just tired of bein' in bed!" The poor little voice shook despairingly.
"Atom, darling!"
"I will be good, Nell." Down she lay again. "Am I a very tiresome invalid?"
"You're a jewel, sweetheart, only you must try to lie quiet."
"Yes, Nell."
Pause.
"When will Denis come, Nell?"
"Directly he gets home from the bank."
"Will it be very long now?"
"No, dear, not very."
"How long, Nell?"
"An hour and a half," unwillingly.
Sheila Pat hid weak tears in the pillow.
"Nell."
"Yes, asthore?"
"P'raps those people who throwed theirselves off the monnyment thought they could fly. Do you think they did, Nell?"
"Very likely. Try not to think about them, Atom."
"I—I can't help it, Nell. Do you think God would make the ground soft so's it wouldn't hurt very much?"
"Yes, dear."
"Up again?"
"I—I'm 'fraid I'll burn all up, Nell!"
She took the hot little hands into hers. Sheila Pat rested her head wearily against her arm.
"Is Denis comin' now, Nell?"
"In an hour, now, sweetheart."
"I'm so thirsty, Nell."
Nell fetched the toast water.
"I don't want that! I want real water. Mayn't I have just one drink?"
"Try this, dear. You mustn't have any more plain water."
She drank a little.
"Have you ever been up three hundred and forty-five steps, Nell? It does make your legs ache, but I wouldn't have minded that—if— There was only smoke and houses, Nell—"
She dropped back on to her pillow and buried her head in it.
"Some day you'll see it,"—Nell's voice shook a little—"see the greenness of it—the—"
"I shouldn't wonder if I'm dead before then," the Atom told her pillow with heartsick pessimism.
"Oh, Sheila Pat! That's not like you. You've had colds before, and been so brave!"
"They were different colds." The pillow was dented deep as she burrowed her head feverishly in her puzzlement. "I feel quite diffrent. I think I've got a cold inside as well as outside this time, Nell."
Nell looked at the dark little head in the pillow, and her eyes filled with tears.
Sheila Pat started kicking.
"My legs ache so, Nell! I can't keep them still."
"Let me rub them."
"Where's Molly?"
"I sent her away to keep you quiet. Do you want her?"
She shook her head.
"Isn't Denis comin' yet?"
"Very soon now, dear. Does rubbing make them a little better?"
"Yes, thank you, but I—I'm so hot, Nell! I feel as if it's never rained for years and years! Please may I have my Pearl?"
Nell fetched him. He squeaked angrily and protestingly.
"I don't want him, thank you. S'pose I gave him my cold? Will you put him back in his cage, please?"
Nell took him away, came back, and tucked her in afresh.
"Now try to sleep, sweetheart."
"I don't b'lieve I'll ever go to sleep again. I feel most as if they've burnt eye-holes all round my head."
She heard him coming. She knelt upon the bed quivering and shaking with sick eagerness.
"Well, poor little invalid!" His big arms went round her. "Wasn't it a little goose to go and catch cold? And the people worrying over you! Pennington sent his compliments, and Lancaster his love. Has she been a good Atom, Nell?"
"I—I'm very worryin'. I'm not very brave," she confided to his shoulder.
"Yes, she is, but she can't go to sleep."
"Denis, might I get up—just for one minute?"
"On to my knee. Come along. Plenty of blankets."
"I do b'lieve I'll scorch you." Eagerly she snuggled into his arms.
"When I smell burning, I'll put you back into your bed. Head ache, old girl?"
"Yes. I s'pose it couldn't grow any bigger in one could it? It feels so big and heavy."
"That's because it's full of all the sleep you ought to have had."
When he was going, she stopped him:—
"Denis, there aren't many people who—who have throwed theirselves off the monnyment, are there?"
"Bless you, no! Only one or two poor lunatics who didn't know what they were doing!"
"Perhaps it wouldn't hurt a lunytic quite so much?"
"Not it! You see, the poor things wouldn't be feeling the same as ordinary people—they'd all be dulled and heavy. Don't think of them, there's a good old Atom!"
"Denis, will you come back before you go to the bank again?"
"Why, yes, asthore! I won't be long over lunch."
The long, weary day dragged slowly on. Sheila Pat set all her hardy will to work, and succeeded in silencing her tongue. But Nell, looking at the restless little head tossing, turning, burrowing into the pillows; at the great heavy, weary eyes; wished her will were not so strong. She was sure it would be better for the Atom to give way and cry her cry out. The puzzled look that she met again and again in her eyes, the seeking, despairing expression, wrung her heart. She knew that the poor Atom could not understand; that she was at war with Providence in a vague, bewildered way, and that she was heartsick for her country.
Nell refused to leave her; but at last, in the afternoon, Miss Kezia, with strong common sense, put matters before her, and Nell went for a little walk with Molly. Miss Kezia betook herself and her knitting to the Atom's room. The Atom was lying with all the bedclothes off and trailing on the floor. Miss Kezia put them on again in silence. Sudden wicked feverish battle leapt to the Atom's eyes. Directly Miss Kezia had sat down she kicked them off again. Miss Kezia rose and rearranged them. When this had taken place four times, Sheila Pat lay exhausted and breathing hard, but in her eyes there still lurked battle.
"Please will you fetch my Pearl?" She watched triumphantly. "If you don't, I'll go and fetch him myself."
Miss Kezia hesitated.
"I will!" the Atom said firmly.
"I'll bring him up in his cage." Miss Kezia rose.
The triumph fell away from the flushed, restless face.
"I don't want him, thank you. I'm afraid of givin' him my cold."
"Very well," patiently.
Sheila Pat watched her a minute.
"May I have some toast water, please?"
Pause.
"I've dropped my handkerchief out of bed, Aunt Kezia."
Pause.
"Please will you readrange my pillow?"
Pause.
"May I have some more water, please, Aunt Kezia?"
Then Sheila Pat chuckled hysterically at the idea of her being able to make her aunt trot about just as she wished. But the amusement palled; listless curiosity made her ask, "Why don't you tell me to be quiet, Aunt Kezia?"
Miss Kezia looked at her over her knitting.
"You are feverish, and consequently restless. I conclude you would be as quiet as you could."
"No, I wasn't! I was doin' it to worry you."
Miss Kezia went on with her knitting.
"Are you cross, Aunt Kezia?"
"No, my dear, but I should be very glad if you could sleep a little."
"I'll try," said Sheila Pat, touched. She screwed her hot eyelids up with earnest purpose.
"Aunt Kezia, did you know some people want to kill theirselves?"
Miss Kezia looked across at the small face peering at her, excited, shrinking.
"Only a very few. It's not a nice subject for you to think about, Sheila."
"They threw theirselves down off the monnyment—right down—"
"Not now. There is a—"
"I know. It's only poor people who are mad, isn't it?"
Miss Kezia hesitated.
Sheila Pat was sitting up; her eyes were terrified, wretched.
"Yes, my dear; they don't know what they are doing," Miss Kezia said gently. "Lie down."
The room began to grow dim. Miss Kezia knitted on in the dusk, hoping the Atom would fall asleep. Suddenly her voice, shrill, impish, rang out:—
"'The ould dame sat in a stiff'-backed chair, Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click! Sure she knitted of stockin's sixteen pair Click-clack, click! Her face was long and her temper short Piff-pouff, piff-pouff, piff-pouff, piff! Sure she worked in bad words more than she ought Piff-pouff, piff!'"
A chuckle.
"Are you cross, Aunt Kezia?"
"No."
"Why aren't you? Don't you think I asserve a cold?"
"You were naughty and foolish, and you are paying for it, but—" after a glance at the figure sitting up in the dusk, "I am sorry for you."
"I don't want you to be sorry for me!"
Sheila Pat flung herself back.
"'Her mouth was wide and her tongue was sharp'—
Oh, go away! Go away! Quick—"
Miss Kezia, to her own amazement, found herself obeying the strenuous voice, the note of real agony. As she hesitated outside the door she heard a sudden storm of sobs—a breathless, wild weeping, a smothered wail of woe. And she walked softly away, her face flushed, as if she had been guilty of some meanness. She stood inside her room awhile, then went back. She paused outside the door; all was silent. She turned the handle clumsily and went in. Sheila Pat lay in her bed, quiet and still; but Miss Kezia knew she was not asleep.
"I've fetched my red wool for the border," she said, and she told the falsehood—a thing abhorred of her rigid conscientiousness—with a ringing cheerfulness.
Nell came in presently with a bowl of bread and milk. The Atom sat up listlessly.
"Aunt Kezia has been very patient," she said gravely. "Nell, please need I have any?" She leant her head against Nell's arm, and her fingers squeezed it lovingly.
"Just a little, sweet. Has she slept at all, Aunt Kezia?
"No. Perhaps she will after her bread and milk."
But she didn't. And as the evening wore on her temperature rose; her little burning face grew more desperate. She began to talk, feverishly, excitedly. Dr. Everton called again. He gave a few directions, and urged them to keep her mind as quiet as possible.
"Her temperature is very high. She hardly knows what she is saying. I believe she has something on her mind. I will call early to-morrow morning. No talk, please; she must be kept quiet."
"Nell, people never want to kill theirselves in Ireland, do they? There's not a bad old monnyment there. It had three hundred million steps. The man said so. It was very high, you see, and I was glad, because I thought I'd be able to see over all the roofs, and I thought I'd see the sea and a blue mist and Ireland shinin' out—all green—oh, I want to go home, Nell! I want to go home!" She broke out into pitiful crying, too bad now to fight any longer.
"You shall soon—you shall soon—" Nell's arms were round her; her voice choked.
"I want to go now! S'pose I'm dead before mother and dad come back?—All green—and cool—I'm all scorchin', but I wouldn't be there—Oh, I want to go home! I want just to look at it!—I'll come back quite quick—I b'lieve I'll die if I don't go!—Molly O'Rourke died, because she went to America. I'll die, too—I'm all sick inside—" She shook all over with sobs; her voice rose to a wail of utter woe. "I must see it—all green—and the colt—oh, he can go—he'll be a fine horse, miss, entirely—look at the legs of him already!—Where's the sugar, then, you bad boy? He knows!—All dirt and smoke and houses—and houses—and a great big monnyment where people kill theirselves. Nell, where are you? Nell—I b'lieve you're throwin' yourself off the monnyment—"
She quieted down a little; her body shook with deep, silent sobs. She began whispering to herself.
"If I could just see you—just for one minute—just walk 'long on the grass—by the stream—and up the Kilsparran hill—and go and see Biddy—with the turf smokin' in my eyes—and smell it—" Then she broke out crying again.
"I want to go home! I want to go home!"
Nell tried to soothe her. She was trembling herself; but the Atom's little body was torn and shaken with her awful weeping. She clung to Nell, crying out pitifully that she must go home—she must go home.
"I can't bear it any longer—I'm stiflin'—please—just to let me feel it—I'll come back—so good—oh, please—I must go home! Oh, I want to go home! Where's Denis? I want Denis—"
"I'll go and fetch him, dear. Will you wait?"
She went out on to the landing. He was walking up and down: he turned quickly.
She shut the door quietly, and went to meet him. Her face was quite white; when she spoke, her voice shook.
"She wants you. She—she's crying for home—" Her lips quivered so that she could not go on. "I can't quiet her. She's—oh, I can't stand it, Denis!" She broke into sudden passionate tears.
"Don't cry, old girl. I'll see if I can quiet her."
He went into the room. Sheila Pat was crouched up on her bed, moaning: "I want to go home! I want to go home!"
She lifted her head, and her heavy eyes leapt to his with a wild gleam of hope. She stretched out her arms; she was shaking all over.
"Denis—oh, Denis—I want to go home!"
He put his arms round her.
"Try to be good, Atom—try to be quiet, and go to sleep." His face worked; he bit his lip. "You'll go—some day," he said huskily.
"Let me go now—-I'll be so good—I won't stay a minute—if I can see it—just feel it—and smell it—oh, Denis—Denis—I want to go home!"
"You shall go, Atom."
There was a sudden breathless lull. She gave a little shiver.
"I—I didn't quite hear—" she whispered hoarsely.
He glanced, his blue eyes desperate, across at Nell, then down at the wild, incredulous little face upturned to his. His eyes cleared, grew deeply tender.
"I said that you shall go." His voice was clear, firm. "Directly your cold has gone I will take you across for a few days if you still want to go."
She dropped suddenly forward against his chest.
"Please hold me." Her faint little whisper told of sudden ineffable peace.
They wrapped her in blankets, and he took her into his arms and walked up and down the room with her. She pulled her arm out of the coverings and stroked his cheek with a gesture almost of adoration.
"I don't think," a sudden passionate whisper came from her, "God can be quite so nice as you!"
Up and down he went.
"Try to go to sleep, Atom."
"Yes, Denis."
Presently she started trembling.
"Denis?"
"Yes, acushla."
"Have—have I been asleep?"
"No."
"—I didn't dream that you—you said—"
"I said that when your cold is better, I will take you home for a few days."
She gave a little wriggle and a snuggle of utter joy.
"I was 'fraid I'd dreamt it."
"Denis, would you mind keep sayin' it every now and then?"
Nell sat by the fire and watched him tramp the room. Once Molly peeped round the door, but was frowned away. Once he tried to lay her down, but she objected with drowsy terror.
"Hold, me, Denis! Say it again!"
Presently.
"Denis, if we took all the poor mad people to Ireland, wouldn't they get better, and not want to kill theirselves any more?—Please just say it again."
"Where's Nell? I want to say good night to her."
Nell came and kissed her softly.
"Poor Nell—may she come, too, Denis?—All green—and cool—I—I can most smell it already—I like lying my cheek on the grass—like—this—it's so—cool—it smells—all—wet—Please—say it—again."
Up and down the room he went, while she slept in his arms. Nell signed to him to put her down, but he glanced down at the small white face in the blankets, and shook his head.
But at last he put her into her bed, and covered her up. For a minute they stood waiting, but Sheila Pat lay still, her breathing soft and regular.
Denis turned to Nell; he put his hand on her shoulder, marched her out of the room, and into the Stronghold.
Molly was there, frightened and sleepy.
"She's all right now. Fast asleep. Go to bed, old girl."
"It's been such a horrid day—is she really better?"
"Yes. I hope she'll be all right to-morrow. Scoot."
Molly went yawning out of the room.
They stood a minute, looking into the fire. Then Nell said:—
"Denis, don't you think—it will make it worse—for her—after?"
He answered without any hesitation:—
"There wasn't any worse then."
She dropped tiredly into a chair.
"No," she said.
He seized the poker, and began hammering at a lump of coal.
"I suppose the money—" she worried.
"Can't be helped! Nell, I couldn't do anything else! I—I couldn't stand it!"
They were silent a little while. Presently he said:—
"I don't believe she'll go. If I know the Atom when she's calm and all right, she'll stick to her guns. If she doesn't—if she still wants to go—I take her. The coming back—having it all over again—will be awful for her, but there was nothing else to do."
"No," she agreed.