"Oh, Herr Schmidt, we knew you wouldn't mind our using your room--_do_
you?"
"Nein, nein! It is a great unexpectful bleasure, Fraeulein! It is so
goot of you, meine liebe! I am so bleased, so very much bleased!" He
was patting her hand and beaming round his crowded room. "Ach, zere is
my little Miss Sheila! But zere is no fire!" His face fell
ludicrously. "How inhospital! Why did not ze maid light ze fire?
Fraeulein, we must light ze fire at once!"
They persuaded him to sing, and his great rolling bass amused Molly so
much that she had to retire to the stairs to hide her mirth. Then he
joined their supper party, and his broad, red, beaming face, with its
kind little eyes twinkling over his glasses, was certainly indicative of
enjoyment.
*CHAPTER XXII*
"On, Denis!" said Nell, looking up from a letter from Miss Kezia. They
were at breakfast. In the middle of the table there was a great jar of
jonquils. In a tiny glass bowl were some precious snowdrops from home.
The room wore a rakish air somehow. Perhaps it was the different
arrangement of the furniture, which, instead of standing stiffly in set
places, was clotted about haphazard just wherever it happened to find
itself. On one chair lay a smock of the Atom's, with a needle and
cotton stuck into it where Nell had begun to mend a rent. On another
lay Molly's gloves. Books and papers were scattered about--James
O'Driscoll wandered about and picked out all the furniture buttons that
he could find. The sun peeped in and laughed and danced to think what
Miss Kezia would say.
"Oh, Denis!" said Nell.
He looked up from a letter.
"What's up?"
Nell bit her lip.
"What's _up_?"