She laughed.
"I stand corrected. Well, I hope we shall soon know very well some very
nice young people!" She rose to go.
"Will you come in to-morrow afternoon? Early--about three?"
"Oh, thanks--if Aunt--" Nell looked inquiringly at Miss Kezia.
"I have no objection."
"When will _you_ come, Miss McAlister? It is so long since you have--"
"I have not much time for gadding about, thank you."
"Mind," Mrs. Barclay turned back to the others, "you are all to come!"
Clear and distinct spoke Sheila Pat.
"'Tis engaged I'll be, Mrs. Barclay."
"What do you mean, Sheila?" demanded Miss Kezia, frowning mightily.
"I shall be helping Sarah, thank you."
"What maggot have you got into your head now?"
"'Tisn't a maggot at all," calmly. "I wish to do it. Sarah's a very
good girl--for London, that is--and she has too much work entirely."
"Sheila, when I wish you to help in the menial work of the house, I will
ask you to do so. Tell Mrs. Barclay at once that you will be very glad
to accept her kind invitation."
The Atom heaved a most palpable sigh.
"I will come, then, thank you," she amended her aunt's words.
"Of all the rude little grumps!" Molly attacked her later on.
"I don't care! I do erject to goody-goos!"
"Who is a goody-goo?"
"Why, that silly little Stewart, of course."
"How do you know?"
"Know, is it?" scoffed the Atom. "Hasn't he got big blue eyes and fair
hair and a lame leg? Sure I know the sort!" her pig-tail jerking
angrily. "And I just can't bear them, Molly O'Brien!"
"I don't see how you can tell. Denis has blue eyes--"
"Oh, _Denis_!" in a tone of strong contempt for Molly's lack of
understanding. "There are eyes and eyes!"
*CHAPTER V*
"Is my pig-tail quite tidy, Nell?"
"There isn't a hair out of place, Sheila Pat. Atom, do let me do your
hair nicely just for once."
"I prefer a pig-tail, thank you."
Nell disappeared into the wardrobe in search of a skirt. When she
emerged she stared incredulously at the Atom.
Sheila Pat was wriggling her head into a pink cotton frock.
"What on _earth_ are you putting that on for?"
"I prefer it to that," with a nod at a loose white cashmere frock lying
on the bed.
"Are you mad, Sheila Pat? Why, it's November. Where did you dig it up
from?"
"One of the trunks. Will you hook it, please, Nell?"
"Indeed, I won't. Take it off at once. Don't be so silly."
"I'm never cold. Do let me wear it, Nell." Sheila Pat laid her
delicate little face wheedlingly against Nell's arm. "Do let me."
"I can't, asthore. You'd catch cold."
When the Atom indulged in her rare coaxing she was hard to resist.
"I'll put my coat on, too, Nell!"
But Nell was firm.
"No, Sheila Pat. And why do you want to wear it, anyway?"
"It's just a little longer than that one. Why, I show my _knees_ in
that, Nell!"
"What's it matter if you do, you goose?"
"I do not _like_ showin' my knees. And I want pertickly to look
grown-up to-day."
"Why?"
"Persons," quoth Sheila Pat, austerely, "can't take liberties with
grown-ups. They can't talk to them if you don't wish them to," her
pronouns getting somewhat mixed.
"Whom don't you want to talk to you?"
"That little boy--Stewart."
"But why not?" Nell peered at her laughingly through her hair.
"I know him. I've got him at home in that book Mrs. Norton gave me,"
laboriously wriggling out of the much-desired cotton frock. "He saves
up all his pocket money in a money box and buys himself a new coat with
it. And he'd sooner learn his Catchykism than play cricket. I know
him!"
"Well," said Nell, tying on her hair ribbon, "of all the nasty little
hard-hearted wretches you're the worst!"
"Oh, I'm very sorry he's lame," with belated consideration, "but I
_won't_ have him talk to me!"
"I don't believe he's a bit goody, poor little chap, and, anyway, why
should he want to talk to you?"
This aspect of the case had not struck Sheila Pat. She considered it as
she pulled on the cashmere frock.
"Amn't I Irish, then?" she decided gloomily. "Of course he'll want to
talk to me."
"I'm going to see how Molly's getting on," Nell said.
In Molly's room chaos greeted her. On the floor stood a drawer, its
contents scattered everywhere. The bed was strewn with blouses, hats, a
pair of shoes, collars, while Molly herself, red-faced, dishevelled,
attired in skirt and petticoat-bodice, was wildly turning out another
drawer.
"Ready, Mol?" inquired Nell, blandly.
"Oh, don't, Nell! I can't help it! I _can't_ find my grey blouse--the
one with the white piping--I've hunted _everywhere_!"
"In the box?"
"N-no! I forgot!" making a dash at the dress basket. "Oh, don't laugh,
Nell. I looked _everywhere_ else!"
"Of course you did, when we decided to keep all our nicer blouses in
there! Do hurry up. Here, I'd better do you up now. Fancy all this
fuss just to go next door! I was going in my blue flannel that I had on
this morning, but Aunt Kezia gave such stringent orders. Isn't it
absurd?"
"Ridiculous. Oh, you're pinching a bit of neck in!"
Nell, at the door, looked back.
"Sure you've got everything? Your hair ribbon?"
"Yes, everything."
When Nell and the Atom were ready they went back to Molly's room. Worse
chaos than before greeted them. Molly was crawling under the bed.
"I've lost one of my shoes! Oh, I'm _so_ hot! And now I suppose my
nose will get red!"
The Atom, wise beyond her years, found the shoe in a hat box, and they
sallied forth.
"Thank goodness, we're not needing hats and things," sighed Nell, "or
we'd never start at all!"
"_Nell_," on the next-door doorstep came an agonised whisper from Molly,
"I've forgotten my waist belt!"
In the drawing-room Sheila Pat ensconced herself behind a table, and
kept a wary eye on Stewart. Presently his mother sent him across to
her. He came and stood in front of her; the Atom gazed over his head.
Nell caught her eye and frowned meaningly.
"Sure, thin, haven't you a tongue at all?" Sheila Pat obediently opened
the conversation.
"Y-yes."
"Why aren't ye usin' it, thin?"
"I--I--don't know."
"Well!" said Sheila Pat.
The boy's fair little face flushed scarlet.
"I--I've got a rabbit!" he burst out desperately.
"Um! what colour is it?"
"Fawn and white. Come and look at him."
Sheila Pat hesitated. Longing to see the rabbit fought with
disinclination to be alone with Stewart.
"If you'll promise not to talk goody, I'll come," she said cautiously.
Suddenly he changed; he turned on her a small, passionate face.
"I don't want you--you little beast!"
Sheila Pat gasped, and grew slowly red.
"You are very rude," she said with tremulous dignity.
"I don't care if I am! D'you think you're the queen or what? _I_ don't
want to speak to you. I can't bear you!"
He limped away to the other end of the room.
Sheila Pat sat very still and quiet for a while, then she rose and went
after him.
"I think, perhaps, I wasn't _very_ perlite," she said stiffly.
"Come and see my rabbit," he rejoined.
Sheila Pat went with alacrity; she was reflecting satisfiedly that the
goody-goo little boy of her imaginings would never have called her "a
little beast." Still she was not completely reassured. Together they
examined the rabbit, and the Atom told him all about her Pearl, and
nothing "goody-gooish" appeared about him. But as they went back to the
house for tea, she sounded him cautiously.
"Are you fond of cricket?" keeping a stern eye on his face while she
awaited his answer.
He hesitated.
"No," he said.
"_I knew it!_"
"Awful clever of you!" he muttered sarcastically.
"I s'pose," she went on as they reached the door, "you'd sooner be at
your Catchykism now than cricket?"
"Yes," he said.
"I knew it!" gasped the Atom, and fled into the house before him.
From a far corner she presently accosted her hostess.
"Is that a silk _blouse_ you're wearin', Mrs. Barclay?"
"Yes, my dear."
"Did you give more than threepence for it?"
"Sheila Pat!" stammered Molly.
"A little!" Mrs. Barclay's fair little faded face was vividly amused.
"I'm glad you did," with grave approval. "But Sarah's mother only gets
threepence for the ones she makes, and she's always ailin', with a large
fam'ly of babies and her husband dead and three more dead between Sarah
and the next one."
"Who is Sarah?"
"She's just the little maid at Aunt Kezia's. She's a real good
worker--for a Londoner, of course, I'm meanin'!"
"And her mother makes blouses?"
"Yes, and only threepence for them, but perhaps they wouldn't be silk."
"No, they wouldn't be silk, but it is shocking to hear how badly they
pay for such work."
"Is it at sales?" Nell queried, looking very wise.
Mrs. Barclay smiled.
"Oh, no, my dear. The big shops and wholesale places buy hundreds of
blouses that they sell off cheap, and that is what they pay for the
making of them. What is that noise?" she broke off.
"It's rats!" opined Stewart, shyly.
But it was Kate Kearney scratching at the door. When she was let in she
came, wriggling and wagging, lifting great pathetic eyes to the faces of
her own people.
"You bad little K.K.," laughed Nell. "What door did you get in at, I
wonder?"
Kate Kearney trotted sedately over to the Atom's corner, and Stewart
followed her with a piece of cake.
"Mind she doesn't bite!" jeered the Atom, rudely.
He flushed, but did not answer. He gave K.K. two pieces of cake, then
turned politely to Sheila Pat:--
"Would you like to give her some?"
He held out the cake.
His politeness--to her a sure and distasteful sign of goodyness--riled
the stormy Atom past bearing.
"Is it _afraid_ you are?" she cried scornfully.
He raised his arm with a sudden fierce gesture and flung the cake
straight into her face. It bounced off her small nose and lit with a
thud on a chair. In silence they glared at each other for a minute;
then he turned to Kate Kearney, thrust his hand right into her
protesting mouth, and walked off.
Sheila Pat sat trembling on her chair. Twice that afternoon she had
been insulted, and by the goody-goo!
During the leave-takings Sheila Pat and Stewart coldly ignored each
other's existence.
In the hall at No. 35 wrath awaited them in the shape of Miss Kezia, who
had just returned home from some shopping. She faced them dramatically,
her tall, thin figure drawn to its full height.
"You mean to tell me that you left _my_ house, and made an afternoon
call on a friend of _mine_--like _that_?" she cried, pointing a long and
disapproving forefinger at her nieces.
Molly clapped terrified hands to her waist.
Through Nell's mind there darted two lines of one of Denis's nonsense
verses:--
"She stood, a tall, and bony queen,
And eyed her subjects very keen."
"What's wrong with us at all?" demanded the Atom, indignantly.
"No hats! No coats! No gloves! House-shoes--"
"Ought we to have put on our outdoor things just to go next door?"
exclaimed Nell, opening her eyes wide.
"Of course you ought! It is most reprehensible! You are not in the
wilds now! No one thinks of going into the street in London without
being properly clothed--"