"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--a _hignoramous_!"
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 jokes _made_ you 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's _never 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--_diseased_ his 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 insolent _sang froid_.
"Get out!" he adjured her. "You're a disy, you are!"
The dissipated wrinkles round his old eyes added to his _blase_ air 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! I _command_ you
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.
"You _paid_ for 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 your _pets_ have 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*
Denis stood upon a chair and declaimed. His audience consisted of
Sheila Pat and Jim O'Driscoll.
"'Literature of the Elizabethan Period.' Pause, Sheila Pat, with an
inward gaze. By the way, how d'you gaze at your innards? Then you
fling back your hair," he tried ridiculously to fling back his short
locks. "Meant to let them grow long for the happy occasion. Then you
begin: 'The Elizabethan Period was one of grand, of glorious prolificacy
in the realms of literature. What names the mere mention of the period
conjures up, names that still ring, and will always ring'--ha! ha! ha!"
He doubled up with sudden laughter. Jim, squatting in a chair, eyed him
with the same grave attention that he had given to the opening of the
speech. He was an earnest, if not a particularly appreciative,
audience.