"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'--